The Reign of the Dragons (syoc)
by ColdWindsRising
Summary: SYOC in an era when the Targaryens are very powerful. Other houses secretly rise in rebellion. Starts with main character Elaena Targaryen who's forced to marry the Tyrell heir. - SYOC still open
1. Introduction

**the concept**

Hello and welcome to my SYOC, which is set in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones. This means that most characters in the story are created by readers like yourself. I've started with a character I created myself, Elaena Targaryen, and from there I expand more and more with submitted characters. Note that the world and the houses are the same as in the books/shows, but none of its characters will appear.

I hope you enjoy the story and I really appreciate reviews!

If you have read the story and decided you want to submit a character of your own, look in the category 'Casting Calls' below to see which characters I can use at the moment. Also read the category 'Important Rules' attentively before submitting.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me.

(By the way, English is not my mother tongue. I hope I don't make too many language mistakes.)

 **background of the story**

The story takes place at a undefined moment in the history of the seven kingdoms when the Targaryens are very powerful. The Great Lords are the same as in the canon story. They're all ruled by king Aerion Targaryen, an old dying man who is no longer capable of actual ruling. He has numerous sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters, nephews and nieces. There have never been more Targaryens nor has the house Targaryen ever been richer. They also possess some dragons, but they are usually locked way in the Dragonpit. Yet house Targaryen is not beloved. They are known as prideful, arrogant and decadent, taking whatever they want. Rebellion is brooding among the Great Houses. Many Houses were plotting and one year ago, an attempt was organized to assault crown prince Gaemon in the streets and kill him. The assault failed. Everyone who was suspected to have collaborated, was arrested, prosecuted and eventually executed. From other houses, he simply took hostages. Still no one is sure who was involved and who was not. Lord Tyrell was among those who were arrested, but he was released and believed to be innocent. To appease him, Gaemon betrothed his daughter Elaena to the heir of Highgarden. Their wedding is to be held at King's Landing and guests from all over Westeros are arriving. This is where the story begins.

Elaena is my own character and she will be my starting point. She's 17 years old. Her parents, Gaemon and Aelora Targaryen, are also my own. I'll leave the other main characters to you.

 **Casting Calls**

\- You're free to submit characters from houses the Reach or the Stormlands. It's a very divided region, with some houses wanting to support the Crown and others wanting to rebel. The houses Florent, Rowan, Crane and Swann were definitely involved in the rebellion, while houses Hightower, Redwyne and Fossoway definitely were not. The position of the remaining houses is up to you.

\- The most important character I'm looking for is a lord Stark, who is currently in King's Landing, as mentioned in the first chapter. I'd prefer him not too young, let's say 40+. Since this character is very important, I will be a bit more picky than usual.

\- You can also send in characters associated with Riverrun, like for example lord Tully or family members, or other people living there. Take into account that Edmyn is a third son. I'm more picky about major lords.

If you want to submit a character for which there was no casting call, ask before doing so. I will definitely not accept Arryns, Lannisters, Martells or any of their bannermen at the moment, since they will only appear later. Also no more Targaryens and if you want to submit a commonborn, don't make him orphan.

 **Important Rules  
**

1\. Please read the entire story before submitting a character.

2\. In order to send in a character, fill out my form. You can find it below and on my profile.

3\. Make your character realistic. They can't be perfect, nor can they be talented at everything. Also, don't mimic characters from the canon story and remember that some things, like love marriages and warrior women, are rare in Westeros. Complex characters are more interesting and more likely to be cast.

4\. Once you've filled in the form, send it to me in a private message (NOT in the commentary section!) and put the name of your character in the title of your message. Note that you need an account on this site to do so. I'll respond to you as soon as I can to tell you if I will accept the character or not.

5\. You can submit as many characters as you want, as long as two chapters have been published between your two submissions. No exceptions. Also, I prefer if your characters don't have a strong relationship with each other.

 **Form**

The form below must be used for all submission. Please copy the questions, but remove the guidelines in italics and leave a blank line between two questions.

(-)

full name:

age:

family: _Is (s)he related to known characters? How is their relationship to them? – Only name characters if they are already in the story. Don't claim new characters here._

backstory: _What has happened in his/her life so far? Where has (s)he lived?  
_

appearance: _Figure? Face? Clothing? First impression?_

personality: _Most important question. Write enough._

strengths: _mental,_ _at least three  
_

weaknesses: _mental_ , _at least three  
_

skills: _What is (s)he good at?_

activities: _How does (s)he spend his/her time?_

Kind of people (s)he likes: _Name character traits, not specific people._

Kind of people (s)he dislikes: _Name character traits, not specific people._

How could (s)he be involved in the story:

(-)

If there are other things you want to say about your characters (e.g. their religion, their choice of weapons, their sexuality …), please do so! You can share whatever you want me to know about them.

Thank you for your interest, and I hope you will be just as enthusiastic in sending in your characters as I will be in receiving them.


	2. Elaena

**Chapter 1 - Elaena**

Elaena was woken up by angry voices and the sound of steel. 'Stay out of this, you filthy northerner!' a voice sneered and two swords clashed. Every day lords from all over Westeros to see the wedding, and they didn't all get along very well. There had been brawls before, but why did they have to be fighting under her window? She heard a blade cut through flesh. A man screamed and the fight continued, harsher and more aggressive. Others kept cheering for their friends, and cursing their opponents. Elaena turned around in her bed, unable to sleep through the fuss outside.

A hand gently knocked on her door. Expecting one of her handmaidens, she yawned 'Come in.' Through her eyes, still slow of sleep, she could distinguish a lean figure, dressed entirely in black. For a moment she thought it was just a shadow, or a projection of her mind. She didn't recognize her brother Jaelyx' facial features until he stood at the edge of her bed. One half of his face was veiled in shadow. She felt ashamed she was in bed while he had been long up. 'Good morning, sister', he whispered.

'Morning Jay', she answered, smiling and trying to get up. At the courtyard more screams followed, some in pain, some cheering and in laughter.

'Have you seen lord Stark's arrival yesterday evening?'

She shook her head. 'You?'

'I wouldn't miss it for the world. He came with a party of 300 men. And still, someone of the royal family needed to welcome him. The Starks rarely come to the capital. It takes several weeks to travel from Winterfell to King's Landing. And still you'd have to pass Moat Cailin … They say half the people that enter the Neck never come out. You can't say that a man who undertook such a journey, isn't worthy of a warm welcome by the royal family. And since neither father nor mother was set on receiving him, I took the liberty. They're interesting people, these northerners. Their way of living, it's different from ours. They live more slowly, taking their time to breathe and enjoy summer while they can. Calm, honest and well-mannered. Oh, if those men outside could stop fighting for one minute!'

He walked towards the window and as the light fell on his right cheek, Elaena could clearly see a recent flesh wound, stretching from his cheek bone to his upper neck. She gasped and stared at it in horror. He did not notice her reaction. 'Look, there's a Stark banner. And next to it the pines of house Tallhart and the flayed man of house Bolton. But their numbers are nothing compared to the Tyrells. They are everywhere, and so are their roses. All here to see you shine at the altar.' He looked at his sister with a smile on his lips, but the smile faded when he saw my distress.

'Jay', his sister cautiously asked, 'What's that on your face? Your … your cheek's cut open.'

He rubbed his cheek with his hand and froze when his fingers touched the wound.

'What have you done? Have you fought?' she asked.

His skin turned pale. 'Honestly, Elle, I don't remember.'

'Jay!' she chided him like only she could.

'I have some memories… I was wandering through Flea Bottom, and two soldiers stopped me. I can't remember who they were. It's all a bit vague, but …'

She jumped out of bed. 'Lords have been arriving all month, each with their own enemies and their own rivalries. King's Landing is more populated than ever, and every day there are new fights. Lords are sparring at each other with insults, their subjects with swords. Every night, people are killed by drunkards in petty street brawls. The last thing we can use is that you, second in line to the throne, keep wandering through the streets for reasons only the gods know and get yourself killed. And now you come to me, with your face ripped open and a gap in your memory and …' Surprised by her own anger, Elaena kept silent and tried to calm himself. It was not his fault, maester Walton had said so often. From time to time, Jaelyx had no control over himself, his actions were no longer his own. It happened once in a while, especially at night, and the consequences could be disastrous. Walton was researching for a cure. Currently, the only thing he could do was bind his wounds and pray the next time would not be as bad. She added, no longer angry: 'Go to maester Walton, Jay. He has managed to heal your wounds so far.'

'In a minute. First I wanted to tell you some things.'

'What is it?'

He sat down with her. 'I've done some research on your fiancé. It was the reason I was in town.'

'And?' Elaena encouraged him to speak. She had only seen the young Tyrell once, at court when their engagement was publically announced. They had never even spoken to each other. His face was handsome, but not in a remarkable way. She had already forgotten it. The only thing she did remember, was the black eyepatch over his left eye. It scared her.

'I've heard a son of lord Hightower talk about him, who knew him as a boy. He doesn't seem to hold a high opinion of the lad. Most people think of him as arrogant. His boasted sword-fighting skills are short of his actual skills.'

'I was told otherwise,' she protested, 'I've heard he's good with a sword.'

Jay smiled. 'When do people ever tell a girl that her fiancé sucks at sword fighting? Lyonel Tyrell prefers music. People often say Tyrells weren't meant to be warriors. They were a lesser house, not meant to produce rulers, but rather maesters, septons and singers. Lyonel's accompanied by a group of boys and doesn't have much interest for girls. He prefers boys, Hightower claims.'

'I hope he cares enough about girls to consummate the marriage,' she giggled.

Their conversation was interrupted by an impatient knock on the door. Not having the patience to await their answer, Jemma opened the door. She was one of the handmaidens of princess Aelora, Elaena's mother.

'Jemma?' Elaena asked, confused 'What is it? Has my lady mother want of me?'

'She has.' Jemma answered. Her tone was rigid and formal. 'She bids you to join her for breakfast.' The handmaiden casted a contemptuous look at princess Elaena and added. 'After you got dressed, of course.'

'See you later, Elle', Jaelyx said.

'Go and see maester Walton. Please,' Elaena said and Jaelyx left. Jemma's eyes followed the young prince and she frowned at his facial wound.

There were many people who didn't like Jaelyx, Elaena thought. In the streets they whispered he was a skin-changer or a werewolf, or an immortal being that stole people's children, ate their flesh and used their skin as cloaks to hide him when he crept through the streets, looking for a next victim. Elaena could laugh at these people's imagination. Others said he was a rapist and a murderer. These rumors frightened her more: she didn't know what Jay did when he lost control of himself. Jay, who listened so often to the rumors of the common people, when he wandered through King's Landing in disguise, surely would have heard these rumors himself. Jemma's cold look revealed that she had probably heard them as well. Yet Jaelyx would be a good king, Elaena indulged to think. He was smart and cared about the people. He wouldn't even need a Master of Coins or a Master of Whisperers. He could do it all himself.

Jemma helped her with her gown. She was stronger than Elle's own handmaidens and managed to fasten the back of the gown in a few seconds. Then she proceeded her to princess Aelora's chambers, scarce with words. Elaena followed her in silence. Her mother did not often call on her, she pondered. Would it have anything to do with the upcoming wedding? Or about Jay?

They passed a courtyard where several knights were training. The day after the wedding feast a great tournament was to be held to honor their marriage. Every knight was exercising the best he could. Her cousin Rhaegel was battling two men at the same time, both with tunics embroidered with the dragon of house Targaryen. Loud death wishes escaped from Rhaegel's mouth when someone was close to hitting him. Not far from him, Edmyn Tully was training with a taller boy. She had known him since he came to the Red Keep at age 13, as a ward of house Targaryen. He was but a page, but at the morning of her wedding day, he would be among those who would be granted the honor of knighthood. The tall boy seemed stronger and abler wielding his sword, but Edmyn managed to ward off his attacks with his shield … until one blow of the boy's sword hit him on his breastplate. Edmyn stumbled backwards and fell on his back. He grinned and was helped up by his opponent, his red-blue cloak dirty with mud. Jemma and Elaena walked on.

Her mother's private chambers were on the ground floor next to one of the gardens. It smelled like flowers and rays of sunlight lightened the room. Princess Aelora Targaryen had a pale skin that could use a lot of sun. Her blond, nearly white hair, was worn loose and fell in soft curls on her shoulders. An extensive breakfast was spread on the table before her, plates with bread and scones, bowls with different sorts of fruit. At Elaena's left hand a boy was playing the lute and her mother was listening with her eyes closed, her head moving slowly at the rhythm of the music.

'Mother.' Elaena made a small bow and smiled. She heard Jemma's retreating footsteps behind her.

'Sit down, Elaena,' she affectionately said and invited her to the chair opposite hers. 'Have you had breakfast yet? Take whatever you want.'

Elaena sat down. She wondered what was on her mother's mind. She seemed tense, but did her best to hide it. Aelora didn't often call on her daughter. Even when Elaena was young, she was rarely around her children. Elaena remembered that she liked to play with her younger brothers, but when they started to cry, she immediately flinched and called a nurse to look after them.

She took a scone, still observing her mother's behavior. She, on the other hand, appeared to be completely taken away by the music.

'Don't you love this music? Isn't it wonderful?'

'It is beautiful,' Elaena admitted, 'I don't recognize this singer. Did he come with…' She broke off her words when she turned to him. She hadn't paid attention to him when she entered. She had only casted a short look at his right side. Now she saw the eyepatch covering his left eye. No, she thought, it can't be. The young Tyrell was sitting in her mother's chambers, playing the lute. Jay mentioned he loved music.

Indignant, she rose to leave. She didn't care what the boy would think of her. But her mother grabbed her hand and looked at her, hurt. Her lilac eyes were wide open. What's going on, Elaena asked herself. Her mother never interfered with her children's affairs, letting them do whatever they wanted, often leaving them to their own devices. What was her plan now?

'Why are you doing this?' She whispered, not sure if he could hear what I said. He did notice something was wrong, but kept playing

'Your wedding's in three days' time,' she answered.

'I know.'

'Get to know him. Talk to him. I prayed to the Maiden that your marriage may be futile and happy. But the support of the gods is not enough to ensure that. Both sides should work on it.' Something in her voice snapped when she spoke these last words. And Elaena understood. More than anyone else, her mother knew what it was like to be in a failed marriage. Her father often ignored her for several days, spending his time with whores and paramours, leaving his wife on her own. This was her way of aiding the marriage of her daughter.

The music stopped. Aelora rose and spoke: 'Elaena, I have the honor of presenting you Lyonel of the house Tyrell.'

Lyonel Tyrell put his lute aside and walked up to her. Under the approving eyes of her mother, he kissed her hand and courteously said: 'Lady Elaena, it is an honor to meet you.'

Elaena did not speak. Instead she stared at the boy's face. His black eyepatch glinted in the sunlight. His other eye was deeply brown and looked at her gently. From behind his back he presented her a red rose. 'For you, my lady.' This gesture might have moved her if his words and actions didn't seem so rehearsed. He had no sympathy for her. He was simply being… dutiful.

'Thank you, Lyonel.' A rose, she thought, for I'm a Tyrell now?

'We'll leave for Highgarden a week after the wedding. Have you ever been to Highgarden?'

'I haven't. I hear it's beautiful.' She adopted his polite and distant tone.

'It is. In spring all the roses in the gardens blossom around the same time. It's a wonderful sight. We'll still come to King's Landing regularly. For tournaments for example.'

'Do you often fight in tournaments, Lyonel?' She wanted to hear if he was as proud as Jay had heard.

'Not often. But I will fight in the tournament for our wedding. It would be a shame for a man not to fight in his own tournament. Yet the chances are that I'll be unhorsed. I'm but young and there are many, more experienced knights in the Seven Kingdoms.'

Not as proud, Elaena thought. 'I'd be happy to wear your favor,' she felt herself forced to say. This seemed to please him.

'Shall we continue breakfast?' he offered, but she reclined.

'I have already had breakfast. I'd prefer to retreat to my chambers.' She tried to put it as polite as possible. Her mother seemed disappointed.

'Shall I escort you?' the young Tyrell asked. Against her will, she agreed. She didn't want to embarrass her mother with her behavior.

At the door of her room, he said her goodbye and gave her a look which would be uncommon for someone who wasn't interested in girls, as Jay's rumors had claimed. When the door shut, she sat down on her own bed and was finally to breathe calmly again. What was her family getting her into?

xxxx

 **Author's Notes**

It turned out I had a lot to write about! Do you prefer my chapters to be shorter, or is this length fine for you? Hope you enjoyed it!

The first few chapters will be from Elaena's point of view, but gradually, I'll use other characters as POV. Remember, I'll need new characters over the full length of the story.

 _Character Credits_

These are the characters I've received and accepted. I will develop them more over the coming chapters:

Jaelyx Targaryen, 15, firstborn son of Gaemon and Aelora Targaryen - RageMachine1227

Edmyn Tully, 19, younger brother of Lord Tully, ward of house Targaryen - RageMachine1227

Lyonel Tyrell, 19, firstborn son of lord Tyrell – AlmightyMuslim

Elaena Targaryen (17), her parents Gaemon (39) and Aelora (37) are my own characters.

(For the coherence of the story, I also create minor characters. In this chapter: cousin Rhaegel, Jemma and maester Walton. If any of them caught your attention, you can submit them and elaborate them further. If not, they will probably have a minor role.)

 _Casting Calls_

I'd like to cast the following characters:

\- Lord Tyrell, Lyonel's father. I can also use Lyonel's mother, his siblings or other people associated with house Tyrell.

\- I need a lot of Targaryens, especially siblings for Gaemon/Aelora. Many of them hold powerful positions, since Gaemon himself isn't interested in ruling. They are hated and for a reason: most of them are horrible and gut-wrenching, each in their own way. Could be fun if you want to create an unsympathetic character. I'll also need a younger brother for Jaelyx and Elaena, probably around twelve years old.

\- I can always use characters from a Great House. The prosecutions after the assault might have left a profound impact on some of the Houses.

The characters I've had so far were all of the same gender and of the same age group. Please vary!

If you have any questions, don't be shy to PM me. If you liked the story so far, leave a review or, even better, submit a character of your own.


	3. The Wedding

**Chapter 2 – the wedding**

The sun rose at the Narrow Sea and lit King's Landing in its full glory. At the break of dawn, the city woke up, bakers opened their shops, sailors raised the anchors to set sail early in the day. Both highborn and lowborn were excited to see what the day would bring. The wedding ceremony would begin at noon and it proved to be quite a spectacle. House Targaryen wanted to declare to the world that they bore house Tyrell no ill will.

In Elaena's room, her handmaidens giggled as they prepared her, excited about the festivities, the ball and the tournament. Elaena giggled with them. She told them what she knew about the food and the dances, and entertained them with rumors about the lords who would be present. Most of them she heard from Jaelyx. Concentrating on these things, she could finally take her mind off the life that was about to begin for her after tonight.

Lady Aelora sat with them, a bit further, by the window. Elaena was happy to see all the melancholy gone from her face. She supervised the whole procedure with a smile on her lips and occasionally started laughing along with the girls.

One of the them kept herself at a distance from the other girls, sewing pearls to her wedding dress while the other girls were chatting. She wasn't truly her handmaiden. But Alyssa Baratheon had no other place to go. Her father was believed to be a key figure in the assassination attempt and was executed. Alyssa was one of the prices they had to pay for their infidelity. A hostage, she had no place in King's Landing. So at first, she stayed in her room or walked around the shores of King's Landing under strict Targaryen surveillance, until it was suggested to Elaena she could take the younger girl into her custody. She was glad she had. She was far more skilled in tailoring than any of the other girls, and her condition triggered sympathy from Elaena.

After a few minutes, all she and the girls could talk about was Lyonel. The rumors about him were juicy and plentiful. He had lost his eye in a fight with a sellsword who wanted to take away his favorite whore from him, a girl said to have heard from a soldier in the Tyrell guard, and the sellsword had won. Elaena preferred the stories that told of his arrogance, though they did not seem to fit the image of the boy she had met three days ago. Lady Aelora was no longer amused and turned to the window. She had tried to smooth the relationship between Lyonel and her daughter, but over the last days her daughter's demeanor towards him had only become colder. To Elaena's surprise, her mother was not the only one they had upset with their gossips. In one swift motion Alyssa rose and turned to the other girls. Her face was so serious the other girls instinctively kept quiet. 'Does any of you know Lyonel Tyrell?' she asked.

'We hardly know him,' Elaena admitted, 'Do you?'

She nodded. 'The houses Baratheon and Tyrell have always been close.'

Yes, Elaena thought, close enough to organize a rebellion together, her family had believed when they imprisoned both lords. She decided to speak to Alyssa alone, for she knew Alyssa did not like to speak in front of many people.

'Thanks for your help, girls. You can go and prepare yourselves for the feast.' The girls bowed and left. Apart from her and Alyssa, her mother was the only who would be there to hear them talk, but she would keep herself in the background, as she had done so far.

'He's not a bad person,' Alyssa told her, still a bit hesitating, 'He cares for people, though he may appear formal. You could as well have ended up with someone cruel or someone who'd treat you as an object. Those people exist and more than you'd think.' Elaena got the feeling she was talking about the Targaryens. She had courage to speak like this in front of her. Elaena didn't like it.

'Instead of someone cruel I've got someone cold and distant. That's hardly anything better.'

'That's not true,' Alyssa firmly replied,' Politeness and courtesies are hardly unwanted qualities in a husband.' Behind her princess Aelora smiled in approval.

'He'll need more than politeness if he wants to earn someone's respect. I don't respect him, I don't like him, I'll never love him. You cannot love someone who willingly takes away your freedom. No matter how kind or courteous he is.'

'I understand,' Alyssa said, and Elaena guessed what she was thinking about. She shouldn't confide her at all, she considered. House Baratheon was proven hostile to her family.

Heavy footsteps were heard on the stairs and her father, prince Gaemon, swung the door open. 'Good morning, my sweet Elaena, my caring Aelora, lady Baratheon.' He made a bow to each of them and his bow to lady Alyssa was most grotesque of all.

'You shouldn't be here, Gaemon,' Aelora tried to reason with him, which all knew would be fruitless, 'You're supposed to attend the groom. At the breakfast of his wedding the groom is to be greeted by his new father-in-law. It's the way weddings work.'

'They'll manage fine without me. I wanted to have a last glimpse at my daughter before she's off to be wed.' He kissed her. 'You look stunning,' he said.

He took a few steps back and looked at her. 'I want to see my girl in her wedding dress. Alyssa, put it on please.'

'She's not a handmaiden, father,' Elaena carefully protested.

'No, but she'll know how to put a dress on, I dare to assume. She may look a bit slight, but I bet she's just as strong as a true Baratheon should be. Some houses are known for their brains, some for their muscles. Putting on a dress won't be that difficult a task for her.'

Alyssa lifted the dress very carefully, pulled it over Elaena's head and fastening the laces at Elaena's back. The dress wasn't finished yet. The rays of pearls were still incomplete. They'd have to work on that later.

Gaemon looked at Elaena. He seemed pleased. He asked her to turn around and she did, and with much elegance she presented the dress to him. Then Gaemon turned to Alyssa: 'Well done, Alyssa. Though not a true handmaiden I thought you put it on very ably.'

'Gaemon, you should leave,' Aelora pronounced her worry, 'The Tyrells will see it as an insult.'

'I bet they know what to expect from us by now, and what not. Now, Elaena, let's take the dress off before it gets crinkled. I won't tire you any further, Alyssa, I'll help her this time.'

'You have our leave to retreat, Alyssa,' lady Aelora spoke, for which both Elaena and Alyssa seemed grateful. Alyssa immediately seized the opportunity to escape Gaemon Targaryen and left.

Her father bent over her and whispered, 'Show these Tyrells what a Targaryen's capable of. Subdue this boy and rob him of his power and dignity, till house Tyrell is but a puppet in our hands. Let him know your heart isn't always as pretty as your face.'

She kept herself strong, as her father liked it, not giving in to her doubts. Instead she asked on a sharp tone, 'And what about my marriage, father? What are my chances of happiness after my husband despises me for having humiliated him?'

'Marriage isn't as binding as it seems. You sit next to him at banquets, wear his favor in tournaments, get him a few children. Other than that, you won't even need to see him if you don't want to. You can lead your own life without him. You can even take in paramours. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you. Grab hold of a situation and turn it to your advantage, that's the only way of obtaining what you desire.'

Gaemon stayed with her the entire afternoon, despite her mother's protest. Even as the Maiden's March began, when the bride, accompanied by a troop of women, walked to Great Sept of Baelor, her father stationed himself behind his daughter.

'Only women are to escort the bride to the Sept,' her mother said in indignation.

'Crown princes make their own rules,' he simply replied and the procession set off. With her mother on her left hand and her father on her right hand, she crossed King's Landing. She noticed her legs were quivering. It won't be that bad, she tried to convince herself. Perhaps she'll come to like the boy, or at least learn to live with him. Her mother would like that. Or she could try to use the boy to her advantage, as her father wanted to. She wasn't sure if she was capable of doing so.

Her quivering legs finally brought her to the steps of the Great Sept and soon she reached the top. She now had full view over the inside, where the guests were crowded to behold the wedding ceremony. Elaena didn't recognize nine out of ten faces. Lyonel stood at the altar of the maiden, with the High Septon behind him. Her father hooked his arm into hers. 'You look nervous,' he said, 'Let's say we run for that altar and be out of here soon?' She smiled. With majestic steps father and daughter treaded through the sept. Jaelyx gave her soft nod of the head. The wound on his cheek was still clearly visible. She hoped it wouldn't become a scar. Edmyn Tully's broad smile gave her more courage. He was a knight now, she remembered.

The ceremony itself was over soon. The Septon said a few prayers, she and Lyonel only spoke when they were asked to. At the High Septon's instructions, Lyonel kissed her and Elaena let him. A dutiful kiss it was; the kind your mother would give you. Even on the way from the sept to the gardens she felt no need to talk to him and neither did he. They walked next to each other, but both were distracted by the multitude of acrobats, musicians and fireworks. Elaena caught herself being excited. She got carried by the merry crowd and forgot the person by her side. Even as they sat down together at the banquet, Elaena was still accepting congratulations from friends, not speaking a word to her new husband. Only when lady Tyrell proposed a toast, the guests kept quiet. She raised her glass, welcomed Elaena to her family and wished their marriage the best of luck. All guests drunk to that.

'Another toast,' prince Gaemon exclaimed and stood up. All nervosity, princess Aelora looked down. Lyonel sunk deeper in his chair, wary of what the crown prince might say. 'I want to make a toast to Lyonel of house Tyrell. A fine little lad and a true friend to house Targaryen. May he enjoy Elaena, and may all the Tyrells see how easily house Targaryen can put aside a feud.' He smiled generously at Lyonel, and added a small grin for Elaena.

'Thank you,' Lyonel spoke politely, unsure if he was being mocked. In the course of the toasts he regularly looked around him, only to let his eyes cross with the disdainful looks of the Targaryens, who were everywhere around him. Elaena enjoyed his uneasiness. Sometimes he glanced worriedly at his family. With a sign of the head his mother urged him to talk to his new bride, but Elaena stubbornly looked away.

Upon noting his uneasy behavior, his new father-in-law addressed him: 'Why so worried, son? Nothing will happen to you. You shouldn't be afraid of her. No one here to harm you. And if anyone had that intention, you are still protected by my brave brother ser Raemus. No attacker would stand a chance to him.'

Ser Raemus would very likely be the one to attack him, Elaena thought, amused. Ser Raemus, veiled in the white cloak of the Kingsguard, stood guard behind her husband as a large creeping shadow, lurking over him as a predator, contempt clearly visible in his eyes. Lyonel was clearly aware of his presence, but dared not look behind him. A clear threat constructed by her father, Elaena thought. Ser Raemus had played his role in the arrest and captivity of lord Tyrell.

Some men wondered how a man so infamous for his cruelty could have earned a white cloak. In fact, it was his cruelty itself who earned it to him. He was at Gaemon's side when he was assaulted in the streets of King's Landing. The two Kingsguard who were with him, resisted no more than a pie would, when they were sliced to pieces. Ser Raemus single handedly butchered the assailants in the cruelest ways imaginable. Even when it was clear the prince was no longer in danger, he pursued his slaughter for all men to see. They said he forced the last man alive to swallow his own heart. Gaemon then took the white cloak of one of his fallen Kingsguard, draped it around his brother's shoulders and said 'It looks better on you than it did on them.' He was feared and respected even among his sworn brothers, as he was by all.

Suddenly, she wondered if he had been present at the execution of lord Baratheon. In that case, how would Alyssa feel when she crossed him in a hallway? She looked around her but failed to spot the girl. She could imagine her sitting lonely at a table, with no one to talk to. She turned to Lyonel and asked: 'How well do you know Alyssa Baratheon?'

He looked surprised; She hadn't spoken to him personally over the entire span of the wedding. 'I knew her well. We visited her and her family at Storm's End many times. Is she here? I haven't seen her for a year now.'

'She lives in the Red Keep, with me. As a friend.'

'And as a hostage,' he added, 'Would you mind if I went to look for her? I'll come back to you soon.'

Elaena said she did not mind. Through the crowd she saw Lyonel talking to Alyssa. Alyssa was smiling. If Lyonel could simply marry Alyssa instead of her, it would be better for the three of them. Lyonel and Alyssa could bring joy to each other's lives. Alyssa would escape from a life she hated. Instead, Elaena was being dragged away from a life she loved. Lyonel and Elaena's paring would not bring joy, only misery. For both of them.

'This marriage is a mistake,' the voice of ser Raemus said, articulating her thoughts. He was leaning towards her. 'The dragon should not mingle with lesser beings. Why would we waste the blood of the dragon on this lot? The Tyrells should never have been forgiven.' He looked in her eyes with a self-satisfied expression dancing on his face. 'Remember, child, when these Tyrells turn against you, call on me. I'd be more than happy to liberate you and the world from these people. One touch from my talon and you'll never have to worry about them again.' He put his left hand on the table, exposing his gauntlet, shaped like a dragon's talon. They said he could kill with it as easily as he could with a sword.

Elaena bore her uncle Raemus no affection, but at that moment she could kiss him. If he could save her from the clutches of the Tyrells, she would forgive him everything he reputedly had done. 'Thank you for your promise. I might make you stick to that.'

'I don't mind if you do. Anything for our family.' Having said that, he went back to his static pose as a guard.

Now she was released of her husband, she stood up to join the dance floor. She made eye contact with Edmyn and he invited her to come to him. Elaena felt an upcoming sense of excitement. A guy as funny and genuinely kind could surely help her lose her nervousness. She eagerly strode in the direction of her friend, but was intercepted by a firm hand. Lyonel stood next to her again. 'Shall we dance?' he asked and Elaena grudgingly agreed.

Lyonel danced well. All his moves were swift and elegant and Elaena had trouble catching up. 'You dance very well, my lady,' he said. She answered his flattery with silence. His hand held her close to him with a firm grip. He was stronger than she thought and more decisive not to let her go. As she was spinning around in the hated boy's arms, she saw the faces of the people around her. Edmyn Tully had taken in on lady Alyssa and both seemed to be entertained by each other's company. Lady Aelora stared at her, absent minded. Her father was making jokes to a member of his household guard. Ser Raemus stood against the wall, immobile and in vigilance. She could solely take comfort from Jay's pitying eyes. More than ever, she felt like a prisoner, contained in Lyonel's arms.

The worst part was yet to come. The pair was led to their bed chamber accompanied by a choir of cheers. The door was closed and the two of them were alone at last with no one to talk to or look at but the other. Carefully he undressed her with pretended affection and asked her to lie down on the bed. He then put his same strong arms around her and kissed her. In her imagination she saw ser Raemus come in and drag her husband from the bed. But no, he could not save her now. No one could.

xxxx

 **Author's Notes**

I hope you enjoyed by second chapter! Leave a review to tell me what you liked and didn't like in the story so far. (And by the way, the Maiden's March is my invention. It's not a real tradition.)

Character Credits

Here's an overview of all the characters in my story so far. My name in brackets means I've created them for the convenience of the story, but you can still take them over if you want. Not all characters have featured yet, and some haven't played a big role so far, but be patient. They'll come to their own right.

House Targaryen

king Aerion Targaryen, 55, dying – (ColdWindsRising)

prince Gaemon Targaryen, 39, eldest son of king Aerion – ColdWindsRising

princess Aelora Targaryen, 37, wife and sister of Gaemon – ColdWindsRising

princess Elaena Targaryen, 17, eldest child of Gaemon and Aelora – ColdWindsRising

prince Jaelyx Targaryen, 15, second child of Gaemon and Aelora – RageMachine1227

prince Rhaegel Targaryen, 13, son of Gaemon's brother – (ColdWindsRising)

princess Naerys Targaryen, 27, sister of Gaemon – anyhoot

ser Raemus Targaryen, 23, brother of Gaemon, member of the Kingsguard – Rougeification

House Tyrell

Lyonel Tyrell, 19, heir to Highgarden – AlmightyMuslim

lady Victaria Tyrell, 38, mother of Lyonel, born to house Dustin – AlmightyMuslim

House Baratheon

Alyssa Baratheon, 16, hostage to house Targaryen, sister of current lord Baratheon – amagicalunicorn

House Tully

ser Edmyn Tully, 19, ward of house Targaryen, younger brother of lord Tully – RageMachine1227

House Greyjoy

lord Corvo Greyjoy, 20, last surviving Greyjoy – Rougeification

Casting Calls

I've decided to work with the houses I've received so far. Please submit family members for these houses or people working for them (especially house Tyrell- We'll see more of them soon). Temporarily, I will not focus on houses Stark, Arryn, Lannister and Martell. House Baratheon openly hates the Targaryens (and have limited power-they're controlled by the crown), house Greyjoy is hostile and house Tyrell is still wary of them. House Tully on the other hand is friendly to the Targaryens.

I have one problem and that is that I have a large power vacuum. Gaemon isn't much of a ruler, and neither are the other members of his house so far. I need someone who can rule, make the important decisions and protect the Targaryen legacy. You can still submit Elaena's youngest brother (who's about 12) or Aerion's soon-to-be widow (who's probably another Targaryen).

And if you send in more than one character, I always prefer if they do not have a strong relationship with each other.

Anyway, you can submit any sort of character you want. If you want to ask about something first, you can always PM me. Enjoy yourselves!


	4. The Tournament

**Chapter 3 – the tournament**

A strong gust of wind pierced through the Tyrell tent **,** which was erected to the south of the tournament grounds: therefore, an easy prey to the south wind. Lyonel shivered. He was seated on a low stool, half naked, as his squire adjusted the knee protection of his armor. Without blinking he gazed forward in the mirror, calmly studying his own body. Elaena did the same. She had never looked at the full body of this boy who had been made her husband. The night before, the wedding night, she had explicitly tried not to look. She hadn't wanted to give him the satisfaction. Now nothing retained her from watching. He had a lean figure, but he was in no way weak: his muscles bulged out in both his arms and his abdomen. His torso was engraved with more scars than Elaena could count. She didn't know where a boy who lived under such high protection could have been involved in so many fights, but she had to admit it looked good on him. It might even have attracted her, if it were a different person.

'It's his father's armor', lady Tyrell informed her, 'This is the first time he'll wear it. May it bring him good fortune today.'

The armor was indeed magnificent. It was made of a dark metal and at the center of the breastplate a rose was depicted by a few simple engraved lines. With much caution the squire placed it around Lyonel's chest. 'Isn't lord Tyrell participating himself?' Elaena asked.

'No, dear. My husband has some health issues having spent half a year in … poor circumstances. Lyonel will be the only Tyrell on the tourney grounds today.'

The squire fastened the last belts of the breastplate and lifted his helmet, which was just as heavy as the breastplate, judging from the squire's facial expression. 'Your son looks splendid, lady Tyrell,' she courteously recited.

'You don't need to call me that, Elaena. We're now both a lady Tyrell.' She gave her a comforting smile.

'How shall I call you?'

'You can call me mother if you like, but I imagine that may feel strange at first. Or else you could call me lady Victaria.' She stroked her fingers through Elaena's hair, observing her and clearly thinking about something. 'I understand you feel like you're still a Targaryen. You definitely look like one. The silvery hair, the violet eyes, the beautiful looks. But in the end, you will realize you're just as much of a Tyrell as you are a Targaryen.'

Lady Victaria didn't look like a Tyrell either. Her dark brown hair and her piercing brown eyes all hinted at her northern background. Though her posture was small and slim, she had some strength about her, a certain determination, as if she had seen the horrors of life and was resolute to face and conquer them. I have two mothers now, Elaena thought, the strong one, and the loving one.

Lyonel put on his helmet and was deemed ready to enter the tourney. He stood up, slowed by the weight of his armor. 'I'll do my best to make you proud of me, mother,' he spoke.

'I hope you do,' lady Victaria commented. Elaena kept quiet, refusing to speak out such a courtesy.

Lyonel walked up to his mother and wife, and kissed them both. Her kiss was formal, as she was used to, but to her surprise, so was his mother's kiss. 'It's time for me to find my horse. Surely, you will keep each other company?'

Elaena politely protested: 'With your leave, I'd like to go and see my brother Jaelyx before the start of the tourney's opening.'

'Pray, my girl, go and see your brother,' her new mother responded, 'I'll find my way to the tourney grounds on my own.'

Elaena bowed to them and was happy to escape from all Tyrell eyes. She found her way past the tents of Redwynes, Royces, Masseys and many other houses whose sigil she didn't even recognize. Yet all recognized her. They greeted her and addressed her with 'Princess Elaena' and sometimes 'Lady Tyrell'. This was a tournament in her honor, she reminded herself. She kindly returned the knights' courtesies and wished them the best of luck in the jousting. She had crossed half of the tents, and henceforth had wished half the knights present good luck, when she found her brother's tent. He had chosen the dramatic Targaryen colors black and red for the fabric of his tent, which altogether made it a threatening sight. None of the other lords had dared to erect their pavilion close to his. Many still feared Jay: they had heard the horrid rumors they whispered in all taverns in King's Landing about the king's grandson. Jaelyx didn't mind: he put the open space into good use by practicing there with his sword against his good friend Edmyn Tully.

Jaelyx was fully armored. Save his head, his entire body was covered in black steel. The fierce three headed dragon which was depicted both on his chest and his cloak, gave every opponent certainty it was a true dragon who they would combat. Edmyn, on the other hand was not armored. He wore a simple red and blue tunic and a cloak picturing the trout of house Tully. He was the first to see her.

'Lady Elaena, good to see you! I was considering I'd never see you again, that your spouse would lock you up as soon as he got his arms around you. I would come over and give you a hug, but I'm busy on your brother and I'm afraid I can only handle one Targaryen at a time.' He said this while he was still dodging Jay's attacks, and occasionally attacking her brother himself.

'Look, Jay, your sister,' Edmyn said in an attempt to break his concentration. But Jaelyx wasn't easily distracted. When he had a clear goal, he could think of nothing else. At times like that, he was able to block out everything that happened around him. He did not make one misstep.

Edmyn did. Jaelyx' sword hit him hard on his arm and Edmyn fell. 'I yield,' he shouted, 'By all the gods. I yield.' Elaena applauded laughingly and Jaelyx made a playful bow.

He then hugged her. 'How was the wedding night,' he asked. With a swift turn of the head he made sure no one was listening, but they were granted the privacy he desired.

'It was …' Different words came to her mind. Awful. Embarrassing. Uncomfortable. None of them could truly describe what she had felt when Lyonel made his way into her body. He had done it slowly, probably not to hurt her too much, but in fact all he had done was make the pain last longer. She hoped she would never have to experience that again. But of course she had to. Until the end of her days, she would have to lay with him. Or the end of his days. 'You can't imagine what it was like, Jay, and as a man, you never will. I hate him. I hate him more than I ever expected to hate someone.'

'It'll get better Elaena.' He put his arms closer around her, as if he could protect her from Lyonel that way.

Elaena was slightly annoyed by his attempt to console her and continued: 'Please, Jaelyx, throw him from the saddle and make him crawl through the dirt. I want him to feel humiliated.'

'The cornerstone of any sane marriage,' Edmyn commented.

'If I have the chance, I will,' he said, rather reluctantly.

Elaena smiled. That was what she wanted to hear.

'Shall I accompany you to your seat, Elle?' Edmyn offered.

She would have liked it very much to have Edmyn by her side. She had grown fond of the boy over the last few years and she found it hard to realize she wouldn't see him again in almost a year after she'd have left. But instead she said, 'I wouldn't want to tire you before the tournament has even begun.'

'Don't worry, Elle. I won't be entering the field today.'

'Why not?'

'I'm newly knighted. I've just bought myself a beautiful new set of armor. I wouldn't want it to get soiled on the first day, when I'm knocked down in the sand by a better man. I prefer watching other men getting defeated rather than experiencing it myself. Shall we?' She accepted graciously. She put her arm around his.

'The one advantage of escorting a Targaryen,' he continued while they were walking towards the tribunes, 'is that everybody looks up to you. Suddenly wherever you go, you are noticed and greeted.' He nodded to lord Redwyne who saluted them.

'Perhaps you could make your way into the family. Than you could have a Targaryen by your side for the rest of your life. They are plenty to choose from at the moment.'

'What hope does a third born son have? Forgive me, but your family is not known for giving charity gifts away. The only Targaryen I would be allowed to make an offer to, would be your mad aunt Naerys.'

'Still out of your league,' she said in a played rigid tone. Then both burst out in laughter.

The tribunes were largely filled with people. Everyone was well wrapped in warm clothes, for it was an unusually chilly day. Her handmaidens had whispered it was a sign that autumn had finally arrived, though maesters agreed the summer would last for several more years. Elaena wore a warm green dress lady Victaria had presented to her that same morning. In the collar large roses were sewn in, made from the same fabric as the rest of her dress. The Tyrells never missed an opportunity to make her feel like one of them. Elaena felt like a flower pot. A decoration piece.

They mounted the majestic steps to the royal lounge, where now both Targaryen and Tyrell sigils were displayed. These tribunes had not been built long ago, during the brief reign of Aegon the Unsatisfied, before her grandfather succeeded his brother. Aegon had a great predilection for building enormous constructions. The steps he had built never seemed to end.

The last row provided seating for the lord and lady of both houses. She kissed the hand of both Lyonel's father and mother. The mother also rose to kiss Elaena on the cheek. 'My sweet Elaena,' she said. 'This day is yours. All these knights, they're contending in your honor. Enjoy.'

Her own mother was seated next to the Tyrells. Ser Raemus stood behind her immobile as a statue. In the tourney of Maidenpool he had killed two men in the jousting. Due to public outrage her family had decided not to let Raemus contest in any tournament. But it was the person by her mother's side that caught her attention. Her little brother Lucaerys was examining the tourney grounds attentively from the great height, his feet dangling above the ground, for his father's chair was clearly too high for him.

Elaena looked at her mother and asked, alarmed: 'Where's father?'

Aelora's answer was soft as a whisper. 'He's participating.'

That surprised her. Her father did not like tourneys. Too strict, he complained. Too static. On the other hand, you could never know where Gaemon's whimsical decisions would lead him. He managed to surprise her every time. This didn't promise any good.

Alyssa was waiting for her on the row underneath her parents' and invited them to sit with her. As soon as she saw Alyssa's fair blue eyes, she realized she would have to miss her too. Elaena was allowed to bring her handmaidens along to Highgarden, but Alyssa would have to stay here. She did not belong to Elaena. She belonged to the crown. Elaena sat down close to her and wrapped one arm around her. Edmyn sat to Elaena's other side. The three of them got quiet as the contestants rode around the tourney grounds to present themselves.

'Who do you think should win?' she asked Alyssa trying to establish a conversation.

Alyssa smiled. 'We both know who that should be.' Elaena turned to the riders again. Lyonel and Jaelyx were the first in a long row. Jay had better control over his horse. Lyonel would not win from him. 'It would bring your marriage good luck if he should win,' Alyssa still added. 'I heard he had been practicing for two weeks in Highgarden, until he could beat any knight of the household guard, determined to win and to be able to win your favor.'

'Who did you hear this from?' Elaena asked, a bit blunter than she had hoped.

'Lady Tyrell told me just now.'

She turned to lady Victaria, who was whispering something to her husband and pointing at their son. Unconsciously Elaena took a little distance from Alyssa, closer to Edmyn.

To Elaena's disappointment, Lyonel did well. He unhorsed a hedge knight and then a fierce looking lord from the Vale, both after one single round. Her cousin Rhaegel was roaring as he charged towards him, but Lyonel had better control over his horse, and managed to hit Rhaegel in the middle of his breastplate. Rhaegel fell in the dust and paced away, embarrassed.

Alyssa was anxiously biting her lip every time Lyonel entered the field. Lady Victaria clasped proudly at all her son's victories. Only Elaena remained unmoved.

'You have to admit he looks handsome, when you see him like that, all sweaty on his horse?' Edmyn asked.

Elaena gave him a subtle punch. 'Don't try me.'

A few words from Lucaerys drew her attention back to the field. 'There's father.'

When Gaemon entered the field, Elaena felt herself covered by a sense of shame. She could not remember ever having seen him enter the battlefield. The parts of his armor were buried in dirt and some didn't even seem to fit. He was far from glamorous. He didn't even seem to ride his horse properly.

'Is he drunk?' Edmyn asked.

No, Elaena could have said, but it doesn't matter. Even when sober, her father was capable of things men would only consider doing when they were drunk.

Despite his poor appearance he did well. He knocked down ser Arron Celtigar and then ser Lester Crakehall of the Kingsguard. Both had a reasonably good reputation on the tourney ground, her father had none whatsoever. He hadn't even reached knighthood.

'Both people who work for him,' Alyssa sniffed, not afraid to speak her mind, where it might have been wiser to keep silent. She even added: 'Any rich man can afford to win a tourney if he wants to.'

'You're wrong, Alyssa,' Elaena told her, 'my father would not cheat. He does not care to win, he does not care for honor and prizes. When he plays a game, he doesn't play to win, he plays for the game itself.'

She saw Alyssa didn't believe her. Gaemon left the field as quickly as he had entered.

Jaelyx had everything his father had not: the youth, the elegance, the skill. He made a calm, professional impression when he and his horse slowly marched into the sight of the public. The crowd was hesitant to cheer. A silence of doubt hung over the tribunes. After one short glance at each other, both Edmyn and Elaena enthusiastically started clapping and shouting. Lucaerys followed their lead, and so did Alyssa, and even the Tyrells. The ice was broken and all over the tribunes people were clapping. Out of politeness no doubt, but nonetheless they were clapping for her brother. For the infamous Black Prince, as some called him.

When he charged at his opponent, all his serenity was gone in a blink. He rode as swift and fiercely as the wind in his back, which was blowing nearly as violent as a storm. He always aimed his lance precisely where he liked it to. He seemed knock down men as easily as knocking down a cup of wine. Among them was the captain of the Tyrell household guard. A minor defeat for house Tyrell, Elaena thought, but not enough. She needed to see him take down Lyonel as well.

She wanted to whisper an observation to Edmyn, but he was already engaged in talking to her young aunt Caelia in the row before theirs. Disappointed, she looked forward and was quiet.

She waited patiently through the rest of the tilts, seated with a straight back like a true lady. For a long time, neither Jay nor Lyonel tilted. Then, when she heard the herald say 'Lyonel of the house Tyrell', she immediately alerted herself. In the left corner of the field, Lyonel entered on his favorite chestnut stallion. She quickly turned to the other side of the field, and in the distance, she saw Jaelyx coming forward. His helmet was beautifully shaped as a roaring dragon. He looked even more elegant than before, and strangely taller. Even from such a distance, he looked handsome. She grabbed Alyssa's hand and was hoping fervently for her brother to win.

She hardly heard the herald speak: 'And in the right corner, to oppose young Lyonel Tyrell, we have … prince Gaemon of the house Targaryen!'

Bewildered, she turned to the herald and then to the Targaryen contestant. This was her father, she slowly realized, but he looked nothing like earlier that afternoon: his armor was spotless; he was seated on his horse in a proud posture; his attitude was no longer clumsy, but very determined. Lyonel was no less determined.

Both horses strode forward, their hooves echoed in the sand. Lyonel held his lance very firmly in his right hand, the reins in his left hand. Gaemon mirrored him, but when he saw the Tyrell's lance approaching, he quickly dodged to his right, out of reach for his opponent. The two riders rode on to the other end of the field. Gaemon quickly lifted his left hand as a sign of his apologies. Lyonel doubtingly glanced at his parents.

'Was that allowed?' Lucaerys asked his mother. Aelora opened her mouth, only to close it a moment later. Lucaerys looked around for someone to answer him. No one said a word.

The second tilt began. The two riders charged, for a long time the crowd watched the two lances, who were being directed at each other. But at the same moment as before, Gaemon evaded to his right. Lyonel's lance however could still shave Gaemon's couter. The two riders trotted back to their positions. There would be one final tilt.

'These games of your husband have no honor,' lady Victaria reproached Aelora. Aelora pretended to not have heard this.

For the third time the contestants charged. At the background the wind was howling intensely. If no one won, this round would be over.

As all expected, Gaemon planned to dodge again. Lyonel had expected it as well. He leaned to his left and aimed his lance to still hit his opponent. At the last moment, Gaemon dodged back to his left, closer to Lyonel and hit him hard with his own stick. Lyonel, who had been leaning too much to his left, lost all balance on his horse. He fell to his left, on top of the wooden barricade, which broke. He rolled in full armor through the dirt – his father's armor, Elaena remembered – and landed at the feet of Gaemon's horse.

Gaemon carefully spurred his horse and set off for a victory march around the field, cautious not to tread Lyonel. None clapped during his march. Suddenly, he bowed to the people in the high tribune. Elaena had the feeling it was meant for her. She smiled hardly visibly. Behind her, ser Raemus was smirking. The wind was scampering against the curtains behind them, trying to break through. It was the only thing they heard.

Gaemon rode off in high spirits. The herald picked up his role, and announced the next contestants. She noticed that some people were leaving due to the bad weather. Elaena stood up herself and made her way down the tribunes, trying not to draw too much attention. She wanted to see her father.

She wandered a bit around the tents where the knights could prepare themselves for the next round, but she could not find him. A squire told her he had left immediately after the last tilt. She considered going back to the tribunes, but then she thought of another plan.

On her way out, she encountered Jaelyx. 'What has happened?' he asked her, a bit confused.

'Lyonel has been broken,' she said smilingly and went on.

The Tyrell tent was surrounded by numerous tents of bannermen, which had made it a crowded place before the tourney began. Now, it was deadly silent. A silence which not even the wind dared break.

She lifted the curtains at the entrance of the tent. Lyonel was taking off his armor himself, softly swearing. His squire was nowhere to be found. His beautiful breastplate was covered with dust.

He turned to her as soon as he heard her. His visible eye seemed empty. 'What was he doing out there? Does he think there's honor in tricks?' She heard anger and hatred in his voice. His naked legs were quivering, from rage, shame and the cold.

'He embarrassed me. Insulted me. Why?' He looked so fragile at that moment. 'Why?' he repeated, aware of his own impotence.

Elaena walked up to him, not saying a word, and put her arms around him. He put his arms around her and laid his chin on her shoulder. His arms were not the arms she had gotten used to. They were not strong and confident, they didn't press her against his body. His arms had lost their strength and confidence. The two didn't speak for several minutes and Elaena felt she could be the strong one.

xxxx

 **Author's Notes**

First of all, sorry it took so long! I want you to know that there might be periods when I don't work on it that much, but that I probably won't give it up easily and that sooner or later I'll turn back to it.

We have had three chapters from Elaena's viewpoint. Three seems enough. From now on, I will use a lot of different narrators and it will be a while till you'll see another Elaena viewpoint. I have a pretty clear image in my head of what's going to happen in the next few chapters.

I always appreciate feedback. Please review to tell me what you think of the characters and the story in general. I'm always interested to see if everything worked out the way I expected them to.

Character credits

A lot of new character have come in in the meantime:

\- prince Lucaerys Targaryen, 12, youngest son of Gaemon and Aelora – Aurorawolf668

\- lady Aelin Velaryon/Targaryen, 38, widow of lord Velaryon, twin sister of Aelora Targaryen – Lacie Neville

\- lord Gestin Tyrell, 44, father of Lyonel Tyrell – Rougeification

\- Saylistra Tyrell, 17, sister of Lyonel Tyrell – Thedaffodilqueen

\- Mila Blacktyde, 18, lady of house Blacktyde (loyal to the Greyjoys) – Amira25

Thanks for all of them!

I can go a long way with the characters I have so far. There are no specific characters I need, so send in whatever kind of character you want.

Thanks for your interest!


	5. In a tavern

**Chapter 4 – In a tavern**

'Three beers,' the innkeeper said in a heavy accent, as he put them down.

'Thank you,' ser Alester muttered and laid down a few copper coins.

'And now your debt is paid,' Torrhen Snow cheered, lifted his cup and threw half its content down his throat. He came from the North, where men would consume massive amounts of alcohol to keep themselves warm at night. He had served lady Victaria many years before she had come to Highgarden. Torrhen had joined the Tyrell household guard, but ser Alester felt that his command over him was not as strong as it should be. When Alester accidentally told him about his mission, Torrhen had asked to treat him a beer to buy his silence.

'As long as you drink it quickly. I have more important things to do.'

Little Jonos was more hesitant to touch his drink. His squire might never have had a beer before, he considered.

'Come on, Jonos, have a sip,' he encouraged him gently. Jonos took the cup in both his bands and carefully gulped a bit down, seemingly against his will.

Ser Alester casted a glimpse outside. The sun was nearly setting. He should not wait too long any more.

That morning he had been arranging the escort back to Highgarden with lord Tyrell. Lord Gestin liked to make sure that the party was protected day and night during their travelling, and it was ser Alester's job to choose which of his men would hold which position. Their conversation had been interrupted when lady Victaria entered. She had whispered something in her husband's ear, and Lord Gestin had meditated for a time. He had then asked ser Alester to leave them. Ser Alester had obeyed, but his suspicion was raised. What was this about? As he had shut the door, he had heard the two fervently speaking, while trying to keep their voices down. A few moments later, he was called back in. Both were still there, lord Gestin seated in his chair, lady Victaria at her husband's desk writing a letter. This letter was sealed and then given to ser Alester. Lord Gestin made him promise to deliver it after sunset and guard it with his life.

Alester hadn't wanted to come to this inn. But after he talked out of turn, he had to find a way to keep Torrhen and Jonos quiet about it.

'Do you know what is inside the Lady's letter, ser?' Jonos asked in that high voice of his Alester knew so well.

'I do not.' Unconsciously his fingers stroked the little bag attached to his belt. He gently pulled the boy a bit closer to him and added: 'And please don't mention it here. There are too many ears here, and you never know which ones are bought.'

Nervously he looked around. At the door two men of the City Watch were drinking. They seemed beyond drunk, giggling at everything the other said. One woman was making voluptuous signs their way. A whore no doubt. Alester quickly looked away. And in the corner, a dark figure, veiled by brown cloak, sat at a table, trying not to be noticed. His face was hidden, but nonetheless Alester felt his eyes were pointed at them. Torrhen followed his gaze and turned to the innkeeper. 'Do you know who that is, there in the corner?'

'Jordan,' the innkeeper said. It was hard to understand what he was saying, because of his foreign accent, but when Torrhen asked him again, he kept saying that same name.

'Do you know him?' Torrhen inquired, 'Is he a regular customer?' Alester had lost interest and looked at his squire.

'I'm sorry I asked,' Jonos said. He was still feeling guilty about it.

He comforted the boy with a pat on his shoulder and a genuine smile. 'It's alright. I'm not angry.' He could never stay angry with him. His squire often messed up, but afterwards he always felt so guilty about it that Alester could not find it in his heart to blame him. At the tourney he had failed to accommodate his saddle correctly, causing his defeat against the Black Prince. He was furious at first, but when he saw little Jonos blushing, his temper was soon lost. 'Finish your drink and head back to the rest of the guard. We'll speak further after I have delivered this to the Baratheon girl.'

'SEVEN HELLS,' Torrhen exclaimed.

Ser Alester turned around and saw the hooded figure behind him. He had tried to grab the bag containing the letter. Alester clutched his arm and held it tightly, while Torrhen quickly drew his sword and pointed it at the stranger's chest. He seemed unarmed.

'What were you doing … Jordan? Is that your name?' Torrhen articulated every word very clearly.

Jordan's hood fell off and his blond locks caught everyone's attention. He was determined not to speak. Clever boy, ser Alester thought, still holding his right arm and trying to grab the left one as well.

'Speak up, beauty,' Torrhen said. Alester could see he was considering if he should kill him or let him go.

The boy surprised them all. Swift as a snake, his left hand disappeared under his cloak and drew a blade no one had known was there, he pushed Torrhen back with a vigorous kick of his leg, causing the northerner to drop his sword, and very professionally pierced his neck.

Jonos reacted faster than ser Alester had ever held likely. The back of his cup hit the blond-haired stranger in the back of his head, the glass shattered on the spot.

This distraction gave Alester more time to attack. He had drawn his longsword and aimed at his heart. His opponent dodged him and managed to pull his sword from Torrhen's dying body. Valyrian steel, Alester noticed at a glimpse. This was no commoner.

Both charged, trying to take down the other before they were attacked themselves. The boy moved faster. He pierced his sword through ser Alester. Alester had wanted to hit his heart as well, but he soon felt he was losing strength. The end of his blade struck lower then he had hoped, in the boy's abdomen, and not nearly as deep. He drew it back immediately. It did him good to see his opponent's pain.

Ser Alester Hewett fell to his knees. With his last strength he thrusted his blade through the boy's leg. This time he wasn't able to get it back. The innkeeper was screaming incomprehensively. He could see the Watchmen at the door stepping forward. All eyes were pointed at the stranger. Ser Alester soon lost his balance and fell flat on his back.

The world was spinning, he could no longer distinguish the shapes around him. Only Jonos' face, as he knelt beside him. The little boy knew what to do. He was strangely calm. He pulled the bag loose from his belt. Then he looked at his master, stroked his face and closed Alester's eyes with his fingers. Alester didn't know what happened then. The sounds around him grew louder and louder, until he heard nothing at all.

xxxx

Jaelyx slowly regained consciousness. He tried to look around, but could not see through the water in his eyes. People were talking, but he could distinguish neither their words nor their faces. It was dark. He recognized the bed he laid in. He was in maester Walton's chambers. Again.

'Jaelyx. Good to have you back.' Not maester Walton's voice. His father's.

His sight improved slowly. His father Gaemon stood closely beside him. The maester stood at the other side of his bed, arranging his pillows. And his brother Lucaerys was seated at the end of his bed, at his feet. The sight of his dear brother gave him strength.

'What time is it?' It took him some time to finish that sentence, but they all waited patiently.

It was Gaemon who answered. 'It's evening. The sun has already set. You have taken one day to regain your strength.' He took a sip from the cup in his hand. 'You have an infected stabbing wound in your belly, your leg has been pierced and, oh, the maester found some little shards in the back of your head. How did that happen? Did you fall through a window or something?'

Jay shook his head. He didn't want to talk unless necessary. He was so tired he thought he could fall back asleep anytime.

'Hear, drink,' his father said, offering him his cup. When Jay refused, he said: 'It's not wine, boy. Only water. In the evening I like to keep my head clean. It eases my sleep.' Jaelyx accepted and drunk.

'Now tell me what happened. A captain from the City Watch carried you here last night. Said two of his men caught you in the middle of a tavern fight. Your sword was soaked in blood. How did it happen? Were they drunk? Were you?'

'Tyrell soldiers. The Household Guard.' He had recognized one of them, an opponent of his in Elaena's wedding tournament.

Gaemon smiled and sat down. 'I insist you tell me everything. Take your time, but I'll hear it all. Maester, I suppose I can trust you that everything we say will stay between us.'

'Of course, my prince. You can count on my loyalty,' maester Walton answered. He had served lady Aelora for many years, and her children too. The last few years, Jaelyx had taken up most of his time. 'Should I send Lucaerys away?'

Lucaerys looked at his father, hoping he would let him stay. 'He can stay.'

Jay took a deep breath and said: 'They were carrying a letter from lady Tyrell. A letter for Alyssa.'

'Baratheons and Tyrells, we all knew they were friends. It doesn't surprise me. Have you read it?'

'No. I managed to kill two of them, but one of them got away with it.'

'Do you know anything of the content?'

'No,' he said again.

'Shame. If they want to play behind our backs, we should do the same. Everybody knows the Tyrells played a key role in the conspiracy, even though no one will say it out loud.'

'Yet the Tyrells were spared.'

'Aye. Lord Tyrell claimed innocence and even helped us put lord Baratheon on trial. Unlikely he was telling the truth though. Several of his bannermen had been proved to have cooperated: Florents, Rowans, Cranes. They were the missing link between these houses and house Baratheon. We have the detailed testimony of ser Morton Florent, describing Tyrell's every move in the plan, though he, I must admit, was at point well on the way to madness. Ser Raemus' tortures are very effective, but sometimes he goes a little too fast: they die or go mad before any confession comes out. The main reason the Tyrells weren't prosecuted was that your grandfather didn't want to remove two major lords at the same time.'

'Don't you fear for Elaena's safety then?' He noticed Lucaerys was listening intently.

Gaemon answered: 'No. Lord Gestin is very predictable in a way, if you know his kind. Willing to plot in the dark, but abandons the ship as soon as the plans reach the surface. Afraid to be confronted openly. He won't provoke us by letting anything happen to your sister. No matter how much we annoy him, he won't strike back. One wrong move on his part and we can put him back on trial.'

'Is that why you embarrassed them at the tourney? To demonstrate your power?'

Gaemon grinned. 'Don't look at me that way, Jay. I threw a Tyrell from his horse. You killed two of their men.' He stood up and left for the door. 'Good night, Jay. I'll keep an eye on Alyssa Baratheon.'

'How are you, Luke?' Jay asked his brother. He looked worried.

'Good, I guess. I'm not the one who's hurt in bed. How are you? Does it hurt?' Luke asked, seriously concerned about his brother's wellbeing. 'He lifted the blanket and looked at Jay's legs. Jay didn't want to know what it looked like.

'It doesn't hurt much as long as I keep it still. I don't think I'll be able to walk.' He sighed. He wouldn't be leaving this room any time soon. 'Walton, how long shall it take until I can walk again.'

'Two weeks, I estimate. But even after that, you'd better rest for some time, my boy. You have lost a lot of strength and blood yesterday. I hope it was worth it. Anyway, I've made your books be delivered from your room, as well your cyvasse board.' He lifted a small pile of books and put in on the table next to his bed. Jay saw he had brought _Tales and myths from Yi Ti_. A gift from his aunt Aelin. He would have plenty to read in these two weeks.

Lucaerys frowned. He frowned too much, Jay thought. The age of twelve is one to dream and be naive, not to ponder all the time. 'You won't be there when Elaena leaves for Highgarden.'

'She'll come visit me here. And at the moment she does leave, give her a kiss for me.'

'It will be several months before we see her again. I've never been that far away from her for so long. You, me, Elaena, Edmyn, imagine that in a few years' time, we might all live in different corners of Westeros, and we won't see each other for several years, except at weddings and other special occasions.'

Jaelyx rose a bit to be closer to Lucaerys: 'Father will be king, and then me. We could get you a place at court, or even at the small council. We shall keep you with us.'

'What would you like to be,' maester Walton kindly asked, 'Master of Coins or of Laws, the Kingsguard maybe, or you could join the order of maesters and study at the Citadel?'

Lucaerys thought for a moment. 'Whatever I can do to help,' he decided.

Jaelyx laughed. It was a good lad.

'Can you name Elaena to the small council? You can't, can you?' Lucaerys already knew the answer.

'No. She will live in Highgarden with her husband and the other Tyrells.'

'There have been precedents,' Walton added, 'Women on the small council I mean. Mostly Queen Regents. So for Elaena, probably no.'

'Do you think she'll like living with the Tyrells?' Lucaerys always kept asking questions. That was something Jay liked about him.

'I'm not sure. She'll have to make the best of it.'

'Do you like Lyonel Tyrell, Jay?'

'I have never really talked to him,' he admitted, 'We exchanged a few words at the wedding. I can only rely on things I've heard other people say of him.' These rumors had been very mixed.

'I like him.'

'When has he talked with you?' Jay wondered.

'We've talked a few hours ago. Mother invited me, Elaena and Lyonel to supper. She wanted to invite you too, but obviously she couldn't. Lyonel told me all kind of stories. I especially liked a story he told about a pirate from the Iron Islands, who tormented the Reach for years. He looks a bit like a pirate himself, with his eyepatch. At first it scared me. Not anymore. I do wonder how he lost that eye.'

'A tavern fight perhaps,' Jaelyx suggested, 'I've heard those can get pretty intense.'

'I'm glad you've still got your eyes.' He smiled.

Maester Walton cleared his throat. 'I think you'd better go to bed, young lord. Maester Hadrian has asked me to see to it that you get to bed in time.'

'Can't we at least play one game of cyvasse?'

'Alright. But don't tell maester Hadrian.'

Lucaerys took the cyvasse board and spread it out on one of Jay's bedside tables. He then took the pieces out one by one. 'I'll play white, you black?'

'As usual,' Jaelyx said.

While Luke was thinking about his first move, Jay looked at his pieces one by one. The dragon caught his attention. A beautiful beast made, entirely of black onyx, looking proud, ferocious and hungry for combat.

'It's your turn,' Luke said. He had moved the rabble, the weakest piece in the game. He was keeping his important pieces in safety. Most often, Luke won using that strategy.

Jay smiled and shoved his dragon forward, ready to strike immediately.

xxxx

 **Author's Notes**

I wanted to start this a bit like the prologue chapters in the novels, with one minor character as POV, who dies immediately. I've spent a lot of time with minor characters, but I thought this was the best way of showing Jay from a different side.

I want to thank RageMachine1227, who sent me Jaelyx, the very first character to be submitted, who this chapter is all about. I also want to thank you all for the reviews. It's really useful, as well as motivating.

One new character came in: ser Darrick Dustin, 30, brother of lady Victaria Tyrell, master-at-arms at Highgarden. He was submitted by AlmightyMuslim.

 **Casting Calls**

I don't need specific characters, but I'll give you some ideas what kind of characters you can send in. And it is safe to say that when you submit a character, you'll probably have to wait a while until you see him. I've got a lot of characters I want to write about.

I've mostly received characters from major houses so far. New members of the houses Targaryen, Tyrells, Baratheons and Tullys are always welcome. You can submit to other houses, but then I'd prefer to get the ruler of the house first, to know where that house stands.

But I would also like to have some characters that are not from major houses. A bannerman (especially for the Greyjoys this could be useful). A person who serves one of the known houses (knights, maesters, jesters …). A commoner maybe (I'll find a way to insert them in one storyline or the other). And in the canon story, there are also a number of lowborn people, who still hold a lot of power (Baelish, Varys, Qyburn, Melisandre, the High Sparrow). Such characters are really nice to have in your story: they add an element of mystery, because you don't know where their true loyalty lies.

See you all next chapter!


	6. Highgarden

**Chapter 5 – Highgarden**

'Highgarden is yours', her mother told her the day she left for King's Landing. Saylistra had nodded.

She didn't feel like she was the lady though. All the decisions were made by her father's advisors. They had insisted she would be welcome to attend their meetings, but she had declined these offers. She was no ruler, Saylistra thought again and again. She doubted that she knew more of politics than a farmer on the field. She was a simple girl, one of the many who were walking through the castle gardens.

The feeling of summer was in the air, a summer that would not end. The soft breeze made an agreeable combination with the warmth of the sun above their heads. Many had been drawn from their houses to the beautiful gardens surrounding the castle. Noble lords and ladies were seeking shadow under a tree or under their umbrellas. Handmaidens accompanied their ladies, delivery boys ran through the gardens with letters or packets in their hands, gardeners were nourishing the flower beds and the fruit trees. They had taken off their shirts and the sweat on their bended backs reflected in the sun. Proud muscles bulged out from their arms. Saylistra sat down on a bench, hidden under some ash tree. Its branches shielded her, filtering the sunlight and keeping her from the eyes of the passers-by. There she could observe the scene, without being observed herself.

She knew their names, all of them. They had worked for her family for as far as Saylistra's memory could reach. As they spent hours of their life trying to make her happy, the very least she could do to repay them was to know their names and be aware of their existence. The gardeners worked on, whistling songs Saylistra knew well. She sang along in her head. Then, she noted one of the men rose and walked up to her. His name was Gaven, he was young, but already bigger and stronger than most. Some lonely drops of sweat rolled down his broad chest and his curly hair was visibly wetted.

'Lady Saylistra.' He bowed before her, and Saylistra blushed.

He showed her a green apple. 'Would you do the honor of tasting the first apple of the harvest?' His smile for her was tender.

She wanted to answer him. She opened her mouth but no sound came past her lips. She could speak none of the words she formed in her mind. Soon her head grew red as rhubarb. She did the one thing she could still do: smile.

Gaven reached her the apple, and she took it in her hand. Under Gaven's encouragement she took a careful bite. Its taste was a bit sour, but it was juicy.

'How does this m'lady like it?'

She nodded happily. 'It's good,' she said in a soft voice. 'Thank you, Gaven.'

'I'm glad it pleases m'lady,' he gently said and turned back to the trees where he had been working. She would not forget this, she decided. She would remember his kindness.

She ate the apple under the tree and threw the core in the bushes. Then she stood up and walked uphill to see the rose bushed, but was intercepted by Burt, one of the courier boys. He looked tired, presumably having run around to find her, and spoke: 'A letter from King's Landing, m'lady. Ser Darrick asks you to come and read it in the study.'

'Thank you, Burt,' she said and turned to the castle.

Her brother Lyo wrote on a regular basis. Before he left, he and Saylistra couldn't stop talking about the beautiful city of King's Landing, with buildings like the Grand Sept of Baelor and the Red Keep. And about Elaena Targaryen of course, his betrothed. Targaryens were known for their beauty, and surely Elaena would not be an exception. Saylistra felt nervously happy when she thought of meeting her. It would be wonderful to have a sister her age. In Lyo's letters he had described King's Landing extensively, the buildings, the harbor, the throne room. About his betrothed on the contrary, he had remained strangely quiet, to Saylistra's disappointment. That would be different now, Saylistra thought, he would have been married to her by now. When they would arrive home, she still had the time to get to know Elaena. That was something to look forward to.

She found ser Darrick at her father's desk. That was a strange sight. Her uncle Darrick Dustin had been born a fighter. He rejoiced swinging a sword, he got bored sitting at desks and making decisions. Most often he was seen sparring with Lyonel and the other boys at the courtyard, as was his job as master-at-arms. But now he had also been named castellan, and this had become part of his duties as well. Maester Osryck stood next to him, softly speaking to him.

At the sound of the opening hinge, Darrick looked at her and invited her to come closer.

'Has there been a letter from Lyonel?' she asked him eagerly.

'From your mother,' Darrick responded. He gave the maester a sign and he handed the letter to Saylistra. She glanced at her mother's words.

'The wedding has gone completely as planned,' Darrick told her meanwhile, 'Lyonel is a married man now, and will soon return home. But there is some other news. Well, you'll see it when you read on.'

She began to read faster. It would be bad news, she had concluded from her uncle's voice. Then she found it. 'Ser Alester …'

'… died in a tavern fight. Stupid way to leave this world. He deserved better. We will have to find a new head of the Household Guard. And he was not the only one. Torrhen Snow died as well, one of his best lieutenants. I have known him as a boy in Barrowton. We had many laughs together. It pains me to know he's gone. We will give them both a decent funeral when their bodies are returned.'

'No one else got hurt? Was Lyo with him?'

'No one else. Your brother is safe, Saylistra.' Saylistra tried to think about ser Alester Hewett, who had served the Tyrell guard for nine years and had served as commander for nearly two. He was a good man, she thought, and he deserved her mourning. Still she could not keep her concentration. She thought of Lyonel. He had often fought in the taverns outside Highgarden, without his parents' knowledge, and afterwards he used to sneak back in. He always won. Only one time he lost, but once was enough. Saylistra remembered how he was carried into the castle, unconscious and physically broken. She remembered her parents' worried faces. When Saylistra saw him like that, she had believed he would die. Fortunately, he hadn't. He had woken up shortly after. It had only costed him his left eye. Saylistra couldn't remember ever seeing her father so furious.

She looked back at her uncle. 'Oh, and Saylistra, I will be out tonight.'

'What? Where are you going?'

The maester coughed. 'If the girl would like you to stay, maybe you should …'

'I heard your arguments, maester Osryck,' ser Darrick interrupted, 'but this is something I must do.'

'What is it you must do?' Saylistra insisted.

'A group of raiders has sacked some villages in the neighborhood,' ser Darrick gently explained her, 'They come at night, slay the men, rape the women, steal whatever means they can find. I'm going to track them down and give them a taste of the King's Justice.' He touched his longsword. 'I will be gone for a day or two.'

'You can send some of your men,' the maester objected. 'You have trained them for so many years. They respect you. They will go if you ask them to.'

'I will not send others to execute these men for me. The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword. That's something my father liked to say to me.'

'And what if they kill you instead? Who will become castellan? Me? Our lady Saylistra?'

'People can die at any time. Take ser Alester. A fine swordsman, fought in many battles. Died during some visit to a tavern. When my time comes, I'd rather die doing something useful. And something I'm good at.'

'Apparently, I cannot cure you of this stubbornness.'

'You can't. You just keep an eye on Saylistra.'

He walked to the door and Saylistra asked: 'Shall I go with you?'

Ser Darrick looked at her, amused. 'You want to come and fight the raiders? You do know how to surprise me, Saylistra.'

She blushed. She hadn't meant that at all. 'No, no … I meant … to walk you out.'

'Of course you can,' he said and he put his arm around her.

Ser Darrick met with his men at the castle courtyard. Little time was wasted and soon he rode off on his favorite stallion, after waving at her one last time. Now her entire family had gone away, she sadly thought.

She spent the evening in her room. She felt lonely, with no one around her to confide in. To drive off the loneliness she sang to herself, soft enough that no one would hear her. She found strength in the lyrics of love and bravery, and kept singing till the sun set.

Then she heard someone knock at her door. Larra didn't wait for an answer and opened the door. She had been Saylistra's wet nurse and her mother's before that. The traces of her old age had reshaped her face and had wiped off the beauty she had once possessed. 'There is someone who wishes to see you. Would you follow me?'

'Is it maester Osryck?'

'No, sweet girl. Come along.' She obeyed and followed her through the corridors. Maybe it would be a secret admirer. She thought of Gaven, who had offered her the apple earlier that day. But no, she should not indulge herself with such fantasies.

When Larra walked, her legs quivered and when she talked, her voice trembled and what she said was often incoherent. Now none of that was true. Her mind seemed a lot clearer, and she walked with much more self-confidence than Saylistra had ever seen in her. Now it was Saylistra who quivered.

To Saylistra's surprise they left the castle. 'Tell me, Larra, and be honest. Who is this?' she asked.

'A guest.'

'Who?'

'A friend of your mother's. He awaits you in the godswood.'

The godswood was maintained less than the other gardens of Highgarden. The tree had not been pruned in a long time, resulting in a wild network of branches and twigs above their heads as they walked past the trees. It only let through a little bit of light. Now and then Saylistra could spot the moon. She shivered when she heard movement. She thought of wolves, shadow cats and so much worse, creatures that could not possibly reside in their godswood. She soon realized it were men. At least five of them, probably more. She had assumed she would meet with one man. That would not be the case.

Their leader stood at the three weirwood trees, which her father called the Three Singers. The man was tall and muscular, dressed in black breeches and a dark poncho. There was not a hint of a smile on his lips. Saylistra felt a strong urge to run and hide.

'Good evening, Saylistra. I know these are not ideal circumstances we meet in. I had hoped to speak to your uncle Darrick.'

'He's gone away,' she said.

'Where to? King's Landing?' he asked her sternly.

She quickly shook her head.

The man seemed a bit relieved. 'I had counted on seeing him.' He left a short pause to put his mind in order. 'I guess I'll have to improvise then. Do you like songs?'

Saylistra nodded. She didn't want to talk to him, fearing she'd say something wrong and make him angry. She looked at Larra, who encouraged her with a smile on her wrinkled face.

'Do you have any trouble remembering the lyrics?'

Saylistra shook her head.

'A good memory I see. That's an excellent quality. I want you to deliver a message to your uncle. And to lord and lady Tyrell. I want you to memorize every word I say, as if it were the lyrics to your favorite song. I want you to memorize it and report it to your uncle and your parents, exactly as I said it, and to no one else. Do you understand?'

'Can't we write it down?'

'No,' he replied immediately. 'Letters can be found; letters can be used against us, which will be unfavorable for me, but especially for you and your family. This is the best way. If you cooperate.'

One of the tall man's followers sniffed. It was a woman, Saylistra realized. 'Is that the best way? To rely on the memory of a little girl?'

'I'm capable of handling this alone, Mila.'

'I doubt it. You haven't handled much since you returned. This is the first plan you lead us in, and it goes wrong from the very moment we begin.'

'I would love to hear your constructive criticism. Tomorrow morning strikes me as a good time.'

A moment of silence followed. The tall man waited for the woman to answer. But she sniffed again and kept quiet. Then he looked Saylistra back in the eyes. His eyes were dark as emerald and pierced right through her heart. He looked like one of the villains in the tales Larra used to tell her. But though he did not smile, he didn't seem angry either.

'As Mila informed us, this is not the best way. You have every reason to be scared, but I promise you no harm will come to you. And I always keep my word. But I want to have some things settled now. I have taken a great risk coming here, and I will not take it again. I would have planned it more carefully, but I had to do it before the little serpent comes to Highgarden.'

She didn't understand. 'The little serpent?'

'The Targaryen girl. They're married by now, I suppose. Once she is here, Highgarden will no longer be safe. Every move anyone makes around here will be reported directly to the Crown. You'll have to live with the enemy. We have no time to waste.' '

He turned to the trees behind her. The faces stared at them, faces which looked older than ever Larra.

'Promise me you will keep this all between us. Promise me you won't tell a soul, except your father, your mother and your uncle. Do it for your mother. She had befriended my parents, a long time ago. Swear it in front of these weirwood trees, to the gods of your mother.'

'I worship the Seven,' she said, afraid to anger the tall man. If she had the courage, she would turn around and run that very moment. She would be able if she wanted to. Start running now, enter the castle, barricade the door. She didn't have that courage, she found out.

'The sept is far from here,' the man responded, 'The Old Gods are closer. I'm sure lady Victaria has taught you to honor them as well. My mother worshipped them to, and so do I from time to time, though in my heart I hear the calling of the Drowned God.'

These were ironborn, she realized. 'Who are you?'

Larra answered behind him, in that fragile voice of hers. She sounded like at each given time, her voice would fail to speak further. 'This is Corvo of house Greyjoy. His mother was lady Laisa of house Mormont. I knew her well, and ser Darrick saw her as a sister while he lived at Bear Island. His father was lord Carsen Greyjoy. He came to Barrowton from time to time to visit lord Dustin. A charming man. It was the last thing I had expected of ironborn, but lord Carsen made me change my mind. Both of them are dead now. And yet here you stand, lord Corvo, right in front of me. You remind me so much of your father. But forgive the rambling of an old woman. It is nice to see you.' She then knelt before him.

Saylistra noted Corvo was looking at her. The fellow ironborn were looking at her. Larra was looking at her, poor old Larra.

'I will deliver this message. I swear it by the Old Gods. And the New.'

Larra seemed pleased. 'I shall go then. No need for my old ears to hear this.' She walked away.

'Very well,' Corvo said, still without lifting one facial muscle. 'Tell them this. House Targaryen is friends to neither house Tyrell nor Greyjoy. Our two houses possess two of the biggest naval strengths of all houses. Together we can attack the Targaryens at sea. We shall stand against the Velaryon fleet, and some others, depending on how many houses will be intimated enough by the Targaryens to help them. But if our ships join forces, we will win. We will hit fast and we will hit hard, and we will manage to take the Gullet and take King's Landing. My ships are stationed at the Shield Islands, anonymously. Tell them that if they wish to work with me – which will be in their best interest – they should send as many ships there as they are willing to give, with a man they trust to lead them. I will take command of the fleet myself. We will stay from the coast lines, so we won't be discovered. But should that happen and should come out that your family has helped me, I will state that I have conquered the ships myself, as ironborn have done for thousands of years. I will wait near Southshield for a month at most. Bring me an answer there. ' He had spoken very slowly and very clearly. 'Did you get all of that?' he then asked.

And Saylistra recited it all and the Greyjoy corrected what she had forgotten, until she knew it all by heart.

He walked up to her, bent forward and said: 'The Targaryens have turned both our houses into shit. We will rise from that shit again, harder and stronger than ever before. Tell them that as well.' And only then did he let her go.

xxxx

 **Author's Notes**

For this chapter, special thanks to Saylistra Tyrell (created by thedaffodilqueen) and Corvo Greyjoy (created by Rougeification). This is a chapter I had planned out long ago, and I'm glad to see it finally finished!

I have received two new characters:

Arian Targaryen, 13, son of Gaemon's younger brother – Ironshadow37

lady Millecya Baratheon (Swann), 43, widow of late lord Baratheon, mother of Alyssa and current lord Baratheon - Lacie Neville

I've also decided to post the complete index of characters on my profile.

 **Casting Calls**

Extensions to the Tyrell and Baratheon family are always welcome.

As I said in the last chapter, I would also like a few commoners.

I've decided that I wanted to have some involvement of Essos. I plan to involve the Free City of Lys. It's a city on an island, where there are still many Valyrian bloodlines with Targaryen-like features. If you'd like to create a character from the Free Cities, could you submit them as Lynesi (people of Lys)? I'm especially interested in receiving powerful people: bankers, merchants, alchemists, magisters (= members of the council) ...

Creating an interesting and versatile personality is more important to me than thinking of possible plotlines. If you don't know any, don't worry. If you do, even better.

If you have any questions, you can always PM me. I like a good chat.

And reviews are always appreciated.


	7. Three Hills of King's Landing

**Chapter 6 – Three Hills**

It was said that wherever you were in the Red Keep, you were watched. Those who said that, did not know the Red Keep at all. The castle contained more secrets than one man could ever learn in his entire lifespan. Hidden halls and corridors, places where no one could find you, forgotten by all of mankind, save by a lucky few. Arian was one of these few. Lucaerys was unsure about how much he knew exactly, but every once in a while Arian showed him a new hidden passage at the most unexpected places, which he had discovered while exploring. He took great proud in it, Lucaerys knew. To others he liked to maintain his secrecy. Even his parents knew nothing about their son's scouting adventures in the castle. He always came back in time for supper, with dirt and ashes on his clothes, while no one knew what he had done the rest of the day. He told only Lucaerys.

'I'll go first,' his cousin Arian warned him that day, 'I know the way.' Luke nodded. Soon Arian left through the little door behind the wardrobe. Lucaerys followed him. The figure of Arian before him served as his guide. His cousin was swift and agile as a snake, Lucaerys had a bit more trouble catching up. He was taller than Arian and broader, but also slower. He had to be careful not to hit the low ceiling. Arian was soon lost from sight and Lucaerys had to rely on his hearing.

'Still with me?' Arian asked. His voice was further remote than Lucaerys had imagined.

'Yes,' he assured him and went on. He followed the sound of Arian's footsteps and sneaked through secret corridors and staircases. In the end, he found Arian standing in a small hall, about the size of his bedroom. Through a few subtle bursts in the wall the sunlight could enter the room, and so could the rain, judging from the water on the floor. 'What is this place?' he asked Arian.

He shrugged. 'Some room Maegor built. You can find many like it in the castle. If you know where to look.' There was something funny about the way Arian talked, as if his tongue was attached to his palate. Lucaerys had gotten used to it.

Luke walked around. 'I see the use of corridors. To escape the castle in case of an attack, or to get somewhere in secret. But why these halls? I can't imagine him hosting balls or parleys in here.'

'For secret meetings with people, people he didn't want to be seen with. Or to meet his paramours, it is said, when his wives did not satisfy him. Maybe to secretly execute prisoners. Your imagination will tell.' He tried to imagine a young boy and girl, escaped from all eyes, sharing a secret kiss. 'Who else knows about this place?'

'Not many,' Arian grinned and crouched. From some hole in the ground, he pulled out something. When he turned to Lucaerys, he could see it were two wooden swords.

'Let's not talk. Let's play.' He smirked and threw one of the swords to Lucaerys. He caught it while still in the air.

Arian took a position ready to fight. 'Should I remind you about the rules?'

He knew Arian's games well. 'The game has no rules.'

'Indeed,' he softly said, 'No rules. Anything allowed.'

Lucaerys did not wait. He stormed at his cousin and swung his sword at him. Arian leaped aback and escaped Luke's swing. Luke swung again. He knew that if he wanted to win, he had to do it through strength. Arian bent over, dodging his attack and clashed his sword against his cousin's. That way the boys played their game, for maybe half an hour, hidden underneath the Red Keep. One might mistake them to be dancing, as their feet moved quickly from here to there in graceful elegance.

Luke learned more from fighting with Arian than from any master-at-arms in the castle. Where they played by the rules, helped him up when he had fallen, acted predictably, Arian did the exact opposite. In real life men will not play by the rules, Lucaerys knew, and neither did Arian. Fighting him was accompanied by the occasional beating, pushing and kicking. Not even when Luke fell on the ground, did Arian stop. Only when Arian was sure he had won, when his opponent could stir no more, then he put his sword at the other's throat and whispered 'You're dead, my friend,' in that same playful tone. Lucaerys had grown accustomed to this little phrase and when it was he that won, he had grown the habit of whispering the same words, which provoked a little smile in Arian's eyes.

As many times before, Arian kicked his cousin to the ground. Get up quickly, Luke commanded himself, or Arian would defeat you. He heard the phrase already in his head. _You're dead, my friend. You're dead, my friend._ No, he would not lose. Not today. He looked around and found his sword. His fingers snatched it as soon as they could reach it. He gathered his strength and jumped up, ready to finish the fight … only to find that Arian was no longer there. The room was as empty and silent as it had been before they entered. No, he had not gone away, Luke thought, he had hidden himself somewhere in the darkness. The room had only limited to access to sunlight, the bigger part was still veiled in shadows. He couldn't see much except what was right in front of him. The silence reflected the sounds of the room, the dripping of water, the creaking of wood, the creeping of rats. That was what Arian was, a rat. Moving silent where no one could see him.

A forceful arm wrapped itself around his neck, sudden as a bolt of thunder, tightening his throat, pulling him back. In a moment of surprise he dropped his sword. His instincts were quicker than his thoughts. He bit the arm, as a starved out dog dived into a juicy bone he had conquered, and at the same time, kicking him in the back of his leg. The attacker fell back. Lucaerys could breathe again, and took a few moments to get some air. Then he thought of looking around.

Arian lay against the wall. His legs were in a twisted position, a thin ray of blood came pouring from his head. He had played too hard, Luke worried. He sat down next to his friend and caught the blood in his hands. 'Are you alright? Did I hurt you much?'

Arian soon had that smirking smile on his face. 'Aye, my friend. You hurt me. But no rules. That's what I said. You played hard, you won. Well done, my friend. Don't worry 'bout me. Vermin doesn't die.'

'I'll carry you upstairs. To your bed. That's the least I can do.' He wanted to wrap his arms around him, but he refused.

'It's only a little bit of blood. I can handle it. You've got other things to do, don't you? Your sister's departure? You shouldn't be lingering here too long.'

'But you're expected to come as well. Once I've gotten you to your bed, you can …'

'I'm not coming. I don't know Elaena. Well, I know her a bit, she's my cousin, but not really. She doesn't really mean anything to me. You should go, I won't.'

He got up and seemed to walk just as easy as normal. 'Take the same way out as you came in.' He himself went to one of the passages at the other side of the room.

'Where are you going?' he asked, 'Where do those passages lead to?'

'A thousand places,' Arian said and grinned, 'To every corner of the Red Keep, to the three hills of King's Landing and beyond.'

If he had the time, Luke might have followed him. Instead he turned to the passage he had used to come in and found his way by touch. When his sister left the city, he had to be there. Only the gods knew when he would see her again. The three children of Aelora and Gaemon had grown close to each other; neither of their parents had ever interfered much in their lives and so the three children had needed each other even more. It were Jaelyx and Elaena who had raised him, he thought, though they were children at that time as well. He, as youngest of the three, was the optimistic carefree child, who could spend his time teasing his elders without any respinsability. Elaena was most easy to annoy and she often got frustrated when he kept asking her questions. Arian was a fine friend, but he was nothing like Jaelyx or Elaena. He was someone with whom he could live adventures and play games, not someone who would always have his back. Elaena didn't mean anything to him, he had said. But how could he say that, Luke wondered, she was his cousin!

He slipped back into the castle from behind the wardrobe. They were lucky this guest room was no longer occupied, but lord Royce had left a few days ago and no one thought of coming inside. The sweaty lord Royce was not known for leaving a good smell. As careful as the young boy could, he tried to sneak off before anyone saw him in this part of the castle.

That hope was soon lost. From around one of the corners a Targaryen guard appeared. 'Prince Lucaerys,' he said in surprise and bowed. It was a tall man with a long clean-shaven face. Ryder, his name was and he worked for his father Gaemon. It was important in King's Landing to know who worked for whom, and thirteen years in King's Landing were sufficient to know the names of most of the guards as well as their loyalties. Ryder was by no means the worst man in the guard. He had always been kind to the children. He even had children for himself, though they were never seen inside the Keep. 'Excuse me, my prince,' he continued, 'but men were sent out to look for you. I was only here to escort lord Darklyn's son. Where have you been?'

'Playing,' he said, and he felt himself being covered by a feeling of shame.

He looked at Luke's clothes. 'Must have been a rough game, my prince. Are those blood stains?'

Lucaerys studied his shirt. Arian's blood had dropped on his own clothes. Or had he bled himself? That he could not recall.

The two had to make haste, Elaena and her parents would leave soon for the Rose Gate, from where they would go separate ways. Ryder soon found a solution. Lucaerys took off his clothes, and loaned a clean doublet from the Darklyn boy, who stayed in a nearby room. Ryder quickly spirited the boy down the stairs.

'Don't tell my parents about this, please,' he asked him.

'I won't,' he promised and gave the boy a warm smile.

His family was waiting for him in the carriage. More than ten carriages stood before the Red Keep, each with the sigil of their house displayed on them. Lucaerys saw roses, towers, grapes and, more than anything else, dragons. The biggest of all was reserved for the bride. Elaena was dressed in her traveling outfit, a simple brown dress and traveling boots. Her hair was worn in one single braid. She looks less of a Targaryen than most of the women in the family. Her hair was blond, but not as blond as her mother, for example. Her skin was not as pale as expected, and her violet eyes seemed dark, so that some might confuse to think they were dark blue. She only managed to give Lucaerys a faint smile when he entered.

Their father sat next to Elaena and firmly held her hand. He was quiet for once, which was quite a rarity. The seats on the other side of the carriage were taken by their mother Aelora, and Lucaerys' newest brother, Lyonel Tyrell, who stayed with his wife. He was the one to help Lucaerys climb in. The boy sat down by his sister's side.

Even when the carriages set off, the silence was not easily broken. 'It's nice to see you wearing one of your new doublets,' Aelora said to her son at one point. She got uncomfortable from the lack of conversation.

Lucaerys couldn't stop looking at Lyonel. His eyepatch fascinated him and he wondered what was underneath it. A crushed eyeball or an empty socket? Lucaerys had also seen men with eyes of glass, but an eyepatch appealed to him more. He bent over and asked Lyonel: 'Can you tell us a story? Like the ones you told at dinner.'

He smiled. 'A story?'

'We have the time,' Lucaerys commented, 'It's a long ride to Visenya's hill and the Rose Gate. And we don't have much to do in this carriage.'

'That's true,' Elaena added with a jovial smile for her husband, 'Let's hear what you got.'

He looked at his wife and got more excited when he saw that he had his wife's attention. 'Alright then. What kind of stories would you like?'

'Anything with a brave hero,' Lucaerys requested, 'or a heroin.'

'My sister and I have written a song a long time ago,' he said, blushing, 'based on a story we heard from a traveler. We used to sing it to each other, or when one of our relatives came to visit. My sister made the lyrics and I sang.' He bent over to his wife and her brother, and began to sing at a subdued tone. His voice was soft as a cushion, the sound of his notes hovered in the air as clouds drifting across the sky.

Luke's hands were shaking from excitement. He looked around to see if the others had similar reactions. Lyonel's words awakened a bright smile in Elaena, and her smiles were fuel to his confidence. Their parents were listening as well. Aelora sat close Lyonel and was gravely moved by his talent. Neither did he lose Gaemon's attention, who seemed highly entertained. He enjoyed the song with his eye half closed. Never had he been that quiet.

His song was about a Dornish maid who found a wounded man in her village. She tended to his wounds, fed him of her own food and laid him to rest in her own bed. But the man would not tell her his name, and one day he left her and did not come back. The girl was heartbroken, for she had lost her heart to the stranger. And thus the girl got older without seeing the man return, until one day she decided to look for him. The girl came across reavers and outlaws, crossed enchanted forests and impassable mountains, but her determination could not be broken and on she went, further and further.

Lyonel unexpectedly fell quiet. 'What happened?' Elaena asked.

'We never finished the song,' Lyonel admitted, 'I grew older, I received other responsibilities and didn't have that much spare time. And Saylistra … she never spoke of finishing it.'

'But don't you remember the ending of the original story, the one that traveler told you.'

He shrugged. 'It's been so long ago.' After a short silence he changed the subject. 'Do you sing, Elaena?'

'No,' she replied. 'I have tried, but nothing good came from it.' She then grabbed her brother's hand. 'Say Luke, do you remember those times when we'd come together and Edmyn would sing all the songs he knew. His voice was horrible and his knowledge of songs was limited to The Bear and the Maiden Fair and its likes, but still …'

Her face changed as quick as the weather. Her smile died and she started sobbing. She tried to contain the tears but they kept coming, one after the other. Lyonel impulsively reached out his hand to her. Elaena brusquely pushed his arm away and instead strained her fingers around Lucaerys' waist. Aelora pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it out to her daughter. The four people around her watched as she dried her tears. 'It's nothing …', she muttered indistinctly.

'Shall … shall I sing another song?' Lyonel offered.

'No,' Elaena said. 'No, Lyonel, no more songs.'

The carriages finally arrived at the Sept of Baelor, near the King's Gate, from where the party would set off to Highgarden, and Elaena's face had gone back to the icy mask it had been at first. Not one tear could be seen. The people came from their carriages and assembled at the steps of the Sept. They had either come to bid Elaena farewell, or would leave King's Landing with her. Elaena said goodbye to all of them, to some she bowed, other she kissed. The lords agreed that Elaena showed excellent self-control. The tears of grief had flown in the carriage, in private eyes. Now she had none left. At last, she came to her family. She looked down at Lucaerys, rubbed through his silver hair and said: 'Promise me something.'

'Yes?'

'Promise me that we'll see each other again soon.'

'I promise,' he said. Though that was not a promise he could keep, Lucaerys knew. He was still a child, it was up to his parents to decide when he would see her again. That impotence entailed a deep feeling of melancholy.

Elaena then turned to her mother. She generously put her arms around her daughter and clung to her tightly. When Elaena stepped away, Aelora gave her one more encouraging smile. Her father was the last to be said goodbye to.

'I have something for you, sweet girl,' he said and took a small object from his pocket. Lucaerys could not distinguish what it was at first. It reflected the bright mid-day sunlight, blinding Luke's eyes. Only when he showed it to the crowd, did Lucaerys see what the mysterious object was: a necklace with a delicate crystal dragon. He let it slip into Elaena's hands. Her eyes twinkled.

'I'll remember you, father, whenever I wear it,' she said, formally, as was expected of her.

In a few minutes the ceremony was over. Elaena climbed in the Tyrell carriage with Lyonel and his father and mother. One member of the Kingsguard accompanied his princess, seated on a proud steed close to the main carriage. They were the first to set off, followed by carriages and riders showing the sigils of the Reach: towers for the Hightowers, hunters for the Tarly's, oak leaves for the Oakhearts and of course the roses for the Tyrells themselves, who equaled all the others in number. But none of the Florents' foxes and none of the Rowans' golden trees: those houses had rebelled, he had heard Gaemon say to Jaelyx, in one of the rare moment his father talked of politics in his presence.

Only a handful of people were left behind. They moved towards the Sept. His mother put her arm around him. 'Come, Lucaerys, let's pray for a safe journey for your sister.'

'Not now, my dear,' her husband objected, 'You go and pray to your Seven, but leave the boy with me. There's something I wish to show him.'

'Why don't you come to the Sept with us, father?' Lucaerys challenged him, 'I don't see you praying all too often.'

Gaemon laughed cordially. 'The gods will do as it pleases them, and a few requests from mortals won't change that, I'm afraid.' He put his hand on Luke's shoulder and said to Aelora: 'Pray, you go, and enjoy your prayers.'

Aelora did not protest. 'I'll see you at supper, Luke.'

Gaemon took his son with him, back into the carriage. Lucaerys would have preferred to stay with his mother. Of all his children, Gaemon had paid the least attention to his youngest son. Even though he didn't particularly like his father, it gave Luke a sense of not belonging to the family in his father's eyes. Many of the things Gaemon did filled him with disgust, especially when he heard him talking to his wife, with so little respect for her. The worst thing was, Aelora never objected. In some way, that was a reason to blame Gaemon even more.

The man now sat in front of him. His eyes, his face, his body language revealed nothing. The whole person was an enigma to little Lucaerys, which evoked curiosity on Luke's part that surpassed his disdain. What was he thinking of, he wondered. What could a man, so different from himself, possibly have on his mind?

The carriage drove through the streets, back to the Red Keep, the boy presumed. The silence between father and son got the boy uncomfortable. 'You've been quiet.' Those were the only words that came to his mind.

'Have I? Well, I'm in high spirits, in such mood that no words can make any better. The pawns are in their positions, and the game can begin.'

'Are you happy about Elaena going to Highgarden then?' Was she the pawn put in position? Was that what he meant?

'Not exactly happy. But I knew the day would come ever since I made the pact with lord Gestin. And I have faith in her.' He rearranged his doublet. 'But that's not the reason I'm happy.'

Suddenly, the carriage turned left where he had expected it to turn right. Lucaerys jumped up, assuming the driver had made a mistake. But Gaemon did not move, kept plucking his short beard and looking at Lucaerys.

'We aren't going to the Red Keep,' he said. That conclusion must have made him sound like a fool. 'Where are you taking me?'

'To see your gift.' His smile was generous. 'Elaena's not the only one who deserves one.'

He thought of the dragon necklace, an obvious gesture of his father. The Tyrells had done the same with their dresses, embroidered with cotton roses. The two families were fighting over her like lions over a prey, bestowing her with gifts depicting their sigils, as if that would prove her loyalty. Why couldn't they listen to Elaena? He knew Elaena would want no trouble between the two houses. Would he get clothing or jewellery with dragons as well, to prove his legitimacy?

'Is my gift anything like Elaena's?'

His father grinned. 'Would you like a necklace? There's no shame in it if you do. But I thought of something else. Something a bit … bigger.'

Luke kept following their journey through the window, and saw the houses rushing by. His father might have hidden the gift somewhere, in some back alley where no unwanted eyes could see it. He liked to imagine what it could be.

The end of the journey came as a surprise. The vast building of the Dragonpit loomed over Lucaerys. It didn't match the size of the Red Keep or even that of the Great Sept of Baelor, but it was overwhelming in its own way. The structure was perfectly round and the walls were made of black bricks the size of direwolves. Instead of a roof it had a glistening dome made of pure black marble. He had not been here for several years, if ever. And that his father brought him here, he thought with a tickling sense of curiosity and excitement, that could only mean one thing.

With his hand in his father's – he did not even think of the man next to him, so great was the experience – he entered the colossal building. A few men, who worked there day and night, their face blackened by ash, guided them through the room, armed with torches and bells to announce their coming to the dragons. One by one they woke up. Each had their own spot in the darkness. Gaemon pointed some of them out. 'The golden one belongs to your uncle ser Raemus.' The dragon seemed to note he was being talked of, stood upright and open his jaws to breathe a flame. The beast was as aggressive as its master. Close to him, there was a smaller dragon with a grey-blueish tint, curled up with his tail around him, drowned deep in sleep. 'Your cousin Arian's.' Luke nodded. Arian liked to talk about his dragon.

The most impressive of them was a great black creature which ascended into the air, though his flight was blocked by the dome. One single of his claws was as long as Luke's arms. He could imagine what this beast could do.

'The dragon Axarres,' his father told him. 'The eldest of them all. He was king Aerion's mount, but after his death it will belong to your brother Jaelyx. And there,' he pointed at some forgotten corner, 'there is yours.'

Lucaerys walked in the direction his father had indicated. Tension ran through his limbs like wildfire. He did not look back. The darkness was mighty, he could not see a few inches before him. He sat down in the corner he was assigned to and groped in the dark. His fingers touched a hard scale, of a lizard or crocodile, but he knew what is was. A dragon egg. He could not perceive or imagine what it looked like. He touched it from top to bottom, turned it around, even touched it with his lips. He felt the life brewing inside. It was beautiful, without having seen it with eyes. A whole new kind of beauty, Lucaerys mused.

xxxx

 **Author's Notes**

Here's another chapter, a quick reminder that I'm still writing, even though it has been a while.

In the meantime I have received one new character:

-Roza, 16, a young healer at Storm's End - Amira25

 **Casting Calls**

Here are the characters that I can use best.

-Lord Baratheon. I'm setting up a Storm's End storyline, and this character is absolutely necessary. He will be Alyssa's brother. I'd like him to be around 22 years old – since his mother is rather old – so that there might be another sibling in between Alyssa and her brother.

-I can use some Targaryen commanders, either people who work for the Targaryens, or who are Targaryens themselves, people who can command armies or who hold other political functions. The Targaryens will probably not have given many functions to the great houses (since they're trying to reduce their power), but rather to lesser houses and to family members.

-Since war is brewing, I can use some bannermen, specifically for houses Tyrell, Greyjoy and Baratheon. Bannermen will definitely appear, but some will only have small roles to play. A number of bannermen of the Tyrells and Baratheons will have been involved in the assassination attempt.

-an influential person in Lys

-You can send in characters from other major houses. But then I'd like to receive a character who partly decides where this house politically stands.

But, as always, you are free to send in whichever character you want.

There are a few things you are allowed to leave undefined in your submission, if they don't matter to you: their familial status, if your character comes from a new family in the story, or where in the Seven Kingdoms they live, in case of commoners. Leave them open if you don't care about them. Also, if you need more information before sending in a character, just ask.

I've already started writing the next chapter, so that shouldn't take too long.


	8. Targaryen council

**Chapter 7 – Targaryen council**

It was cold in the room. Evening had fallen, and some fool had left the window open.

She had dressed herself in warm clothes. She wore one of her old winter dresses: it was made of inelegant, but thick wool. Its long sleeves were adorned with fur to keep her hands warm, which they definitely needed to be. She had bound her hair together in a bun and wore a simple bonnet to keep it in shape. The bonnet was a little small though and some silver locks could still be seen. The dress was a bit too long, and the raffled end dragged on the ground after every step. The whole of the dress was dyed in a soothing tint of grey, only at the bottom this color was varied by a few darker stains, caused by the blood of the guard who had stood outside.

The room was nicer than her own. There was plenty of space, the bed was made from pure oak wood and so were the bedside tables. Nothing appealed to her more than oak tree. Covered in sleep, the boy in the bed was beautiful as well; he seemed almost like an angle. But there were malevolent angles as well. He was bestowed with gifts, which were displayed on the bedsides tables. There were bottles of wine from the Arbor, decorated candles and several books. She picked up some of the gifts and studied them. She drank from the bottles, watched the little flames dance on top of the candles, read through the books. She took her time.

'Why are you here?' a voice asked. 'M'lady?' The voice came closer. The poor man did not know what to make of this.

She looked at the book she was holding, which had a brown leather covering showing two basilisks. She turned around and used the book to hit the man on his head, as hard as she could. The maester fell to the ground and was silent. Good. She looked at the book again. _Tales and myths from Yi Ti._ The cover was torn and some of the first pages had come loose.

The boy in the bed hadn't noticed a thing. The gods had taken him far away. She picked up one of the pillows from under his head. Sometimes people could forget that things that looked so comely, could kill as easily as a blade. She placed it gently on the boy's head.

'No,' someone shrieked, short and loud. A woman. She saw her figure at the doorstep, tall and meagre. With hasty steps the woman ran up to her. Still close to the bedside tables, she considered grabbing one of the other gifts, a candle maybe, to defend herself from the woman who ran towards her, but stopped herself. The other grabbed her arms taut. Tears glistened on her cheeks and grief choked her words. 'Naerys, you're not yourself. Listen to me,' the meagre woman said and shook her body, as if she was trying to wake someone from a deep sleep. Her strained arms forbade her to move. 'You listen to me.' She spoke these words slowly and carefully pronounced. Her voice was hoarse and tired. 'You are not the Naerys you were born as. Not at this moment. Wake her up. I don't know where these evil notions come from, but store them away again, far away. Don't let this insanity drive you. Let the real Naerys come back. The real Naerys has no desire to harm Jay, and neither do you. Neither do you, do you hear me?'

Naerys looked into her sister Aelora's eyes, which showed a strength she did not usually have. She had placed herself in between Naerys and the boy, who was still sleeping with a soothing perfection. An inhumane perfection, Naerys thought. It is not a boy, she knew, it was a delusion, a diabolic impostor, a danger no one else saw. Aggression flamed inside herself, a longing to rip it away from its bed, and destroy it. She could not look at him while her sister held her tight. She could only see Aelora's eyes in front of her. Her elder sister Aelora, who used to play with her, explained to her what she did not understand. Those were eyes she trusted and was attached to. She was torn between aggression and compassion, anger and guilt, doubt, which struck her deep into her bones. She could no longer contain these emotions and tried to utter them. No words passed her throat. Only a high, trembling laugh.

Aelora looked amazed. 'You're not Naerys.' She said with no more fire in her voice. Naerys heard a bit of pity. Her sister turned her head away from her, still not releasing the grip of her arms. 'Guards!' she shouted. 'Guards! Guards, quickly! Guards! By all the gods, guards!' Tears came rushing down her cheeks.

Her cry was finally heard and a group of four guards came running in, dressed in Targaryen colors. Aelora finally let go of Naerys. Naerys rearranged herself and stood upright. She cleared her throat and spoke 'Sers, I bid you good evening. It's good that you have come. Could I take a minute of your time? This boy is an impostor and …'

She noticed no one paid any attention to her. One of the guards supported Aelora, who was not looking well. One of them removed the pillow from the boy's head and made sure if he was still breathing. The two other guards, one a gentleman, one a brute, came at Naerys.

'Could you come with us, my lady?' the gentleman asked.

Naerys obeyed and followed then. She tried again to speak some reason into their heads. 'The boy is not what he seems. If we were wise, we would exterminate him.'

'Come with us, princess Naerys', the gentleman said again, 'You can tell us some other time.'

xxxx

King Aerion had insisted Targaryens were superior to any other house, and that power should reside with the Targaryens and the Targaryens alone. That was something he had fiercely believed, and had helped realize over the years. The small council no longer held power under his reign. Its members were simply pawns for Aerion to command. The real decisions were made in the so called Targaryen councils, when the king invited the important members of his house and discussed the urgent matters of the realm over dinner. King Aerion now lay on his deathbed. But when the king dies, Aelin thought, the Targaryen power can better not die with him.

She had smelled the chaos from the day she arrived in King's Landing. None of her family members had really seized control. They had continued the lives they had lived before, which included not much else than whoring, gambling and hunting. That way they had left the door open for lesser lords to step in and grab whatever power they could reach. It was time for the Targaryens to return and take the reins back into their hands. It was time for a new Targaryen council.

Today she had only invited a small portion of the family: Aelora, her twin sister, who she trusted more than anyone; her son Jaelyx, who would one day be king; and finally Gaemon, a person she'd prefer not to see, but today she had no choice. She hoped he had the decency to show up, but Gaemon being decent was something one could better not rely on.

She had already tried to speak to the most reasonable family members about government issues, but neither of them had really listened to her. They condoled with her over the death of her husband, though he had been dead for six years, and went on suggesting it was time for a new marriage. One of them had even offered to marry her himself. To them, she was just a birthing machine that could be bought and sold. She had to convince them all that Aelin Velaryon had the true blood of the dragon in her veins, but she had to do it one step at a time. Today she would meet with only three people.

Dania and Emelyn helped her get ready. They were sweet girls, both of them. Dania had been a slave in Tyrosh before Aelin found her, Emelyn in Volantis. Emelyn had worked as a dressmaker and spoke with excitement about the dresses Aelin could wear. In the end, she and the girl came to the same conclusion: a long-sleeved lavender dress made from the purest silk from Qarth. Emelyn helped her put it on in front of the mirror. She chose a set of shoes of Myrish design, and as a finishing touch, her favorite necklace with pearls and amethysts. She looked good, she admitted to herself. That gave her confidence.

On Dania's recommendation, she had ordered the cook to prepare a soup of turtles and sea snails, made with a Tyroshi recipe. Aelin had been sceptic when she heard of it, but when she had it made for her, she had been pleasantly surprised about its taste. When she complimented Dania about it, the young girl blushed of pride. She had even been prouder when Aelin suggested she could have it served as first dish to her family today.

She oversaw Dania and the servant boys setting the table. She sat down with her back towards the window, so her guests, at the other end of the table, would be able to enjoy the view of the city. Aelin however preferred not to be distracted. She invited Emelyn to sit opposite her until the guests were there. The Volantene girl was older, taller and more confident than Dania and spoke freely about her home city and the cities she had seen or still hoped to see in the future. She was growing old, Aelin thought, it would be about time to find her a husband, a noble knight with a good heart. She would be happy to see such a match take place.

When she heard her guests arriving, she quickly sent Emelyn back to her bedroom. It would not be appropriate if she would be present. Aelora arrived together with her son Jaelyx. He was paler than usual and leaned on his mother's shoulder. His leg had not fully recovered. Aelin got up and kissed both of them on both cheeks.

'Have you heard?' Aelora asked her sister, 'The things that happened yesterday evening?'

'About Naerys?' Aelin asked. She had been shocked when a messenger brought the news. She had seen with her own eyes that her sister Naerys had deteriorated since the last time she had seen her. But that it could go so far that she would actually try and attack Jaelyx in his bed, she would never have believed. Even at Driftmark rumors were heard about mad princess Naerys, but Aelin had dismissed them as smallfolk gossip. 'I could not believe what I was hearing. She hasn't done anything like it before, has she?'

Aelora hesitated. 'Not against a family member. But she has tried to kill other people before. In the beginning, there were still guards who obeyed her and killed who she asked. Now they have seen her for what she is, and she must find new ways to achieve what she wants. She has demons in her head, Aelin. The old Naerys is gone.'

Once she had been a sweet girl, Aelin sadly remembered, and so joyous. But the gods had been cruel on her. They had tossed their coin, as smallfolk often said, and it had landed on the wrong side. She put her arm on Aelora's shoulder as a sign of reassurance. 'I'll make sure there are guards with her, day and night. She won't be able to try that again.' She then turned to Jaelyx. 'Has she hurt you?'

'No,' Jaelyx answered, 'When I woke up, I didn't even realize something had happened until mother told me.' He looked at his leg. 'These wounds stem from before the attack.'

'The tavern fight.' She hoped her voice did not show her disdain. 'You'd better stay inside more, Jaelyx. I wouldn't want this to happen a second time. Were these men drunk?'

He blushed. 'They were. You know how bad tavern fights can get.'

'All too well. Drunk men carrying swords is a dangerous thing. But wine is the only relief the smallfolk has, so we can't really object to them drinking. I bet these men had no idea it was a prince they were assaulting. Has that maester of yours given you milk of the poppy?'

'Yes, he has. Maester Walton thought it would be for the best.'

'Don't let him give you too much. Milk of the poppy can have lasting and severe consequences. There are safer ways, yet all maesters tried to force their precious poppies on us. The best medicine in my experience is sleeping enough and eating enough. And now, we should wait to see if Gaemon shows up. Do you know where he is, Aelora?'

'No,' Aelora admitted, 'When I woke up, he was already gone. I haven't seen him today.'

'You can sit down already. We'll serve you the wine, and if he's late, we'll start with the first dish. We can't afford to wait until Gaemon crawls off his whores and realizes he was expected here.'

She saw Aelora was feeling uncomfortable about her remark, and so Aelin made a clumsy attempt to change the subject. 'You're looking good, Aelora.'

'Thank you. But you … you look even better. Those clothes are really magnificent. It's so different from before.' Aelora looked Aelin right in the eye. Her face was so sweet that it could have belonged to a little girl. 'I'm glad you're back in King's Landing, Aelin. It has been far too long.'

'And I'm glad I can stay. But now my eldest daughter has turned fourteen, and she can rule Driftmark and its ships while I'm in King's Landing.' Fourteen, Aelin thought, the same age she had when she got married. She had only been a child when her father wed her to lord Otherys Velaryon, a man her father's age. It was a time she dreaded to look back to, but it were those years that shaped her. She had entered the marriage a girl, but Otherys' cruelty had turned her into a woman. _The old, the true, the brave_ \- those were the words of house Velaryon. But lord Otherys hadn't been brave, and he hadn't been true to her. He had just been old. She would not let her daughter suffer the same way, she had already decided before any of her children were born. She would wait until she had come of age; a marriage did no good to a girl that young. Elaena had seventeen years when she was married, and even if she did not seem to have been ready for it, judging from the fearful look in her eyes, when she was dancing with her husband at her wedding.

A Dornish wine was served and slowly a conversation arose. Jaelyx inquired after the finances of the royal treasury and Aelin told him what she knew. Aelora, who had no knowledge of finances, stayed quiet and listened. When Aelin was about to command Dania to serve the soup, she heard approaching footsteps and heavy laughter. Gaemon had arrived. When Dania opened the door for him, she saw he was accompanied by the only brother Aelin hated more than Gaemon himself: ser Raemus of the Kingsguard.

'I apologize for my lateness,' Gaemon said, 'but I hope we can still join you?'

'You can both sit down,' Aelin answered, 'but I don't remember inviting you, Raemus?'

Gaemon answered instead of his younger brother. 'I needed some protection while making my way through the Red Keep, wouldn't you agree? I've been assaulted before, and one such experience was enough to satisfy my curiosity towards assaults. And besides, can you blame a brother for wanting to see his sister?'

Neither Gaemon nor Raemus really liked her, or would be happy to see her. Raemus hadn't even been born when their father shipped Aelin off to Driftmark. Yet she allowed their presence and asked Emelyn to fetch another plate for the unexpected guest. Dania quickly ran to and from the kitchen to fill the men's glasses with wine. In her haste, she tilted ser Raemus' cup. Wine was spilled all over the tablecloth. 'I'm so sorry,' she spoke immediately, with still a hint of a Tyroshi accent. She stood as still like a rock, waiting for a reply from the knight, but he said nothing. He looked at her, annoyed that the girl was waiting, and said: 'I don't need you to apologize. I need you to clean this up.' Dania's head got as red as a strawberry and ran off to find something to clean the mess she made, continuously apologizing.

When she served the soup, she felt his eyes were still pointed at her. He terrified her, everyone saw that. 'How fares our father?' Aelin asked while everyone was eating. That was the best and politest way to start, she had decided, and from there she could take the conversation to where she wanted it to go.

Aelora was the one to answer: 'Better actually. A month ago the maesters were convinced he would die within the fortnight, but he made it through and now he's not in immediate danger, but …'

'The same as ever,' Gaemon said, interrupting his wife, 'He's in bed when we wake up, he's in bed when we fall asleep, meals are brought to his bed. The only time he leaves his bed, is when his servants help him up because our king needs to take a shit.'

'Whether he is sitting on the throne or lying in his bed, he is still our king,' Aelin reacted, 'The question is, can he still rule?' She waited a minute, but no one answered, not even Gaemon. That was what she had counted on. 'His brother Daeron, our Hand of the King, is almost as old as he is and his qualifications no longer include holding a quill or staying awake for more than three hours in a row. The rest of the small council is even worse. They might have been young men when Aerion named them as his advisors, but old age has caught up with them. No one, none of them is actually ruling the Seven Kingdoms. It's time for a new small council. It's time for a new Hand. And since our king is no longer physically capable of ruling, it's time for a regent.'

She paused to let her words sink in. All eyes were on here. _At least I have their attention_ , Aelin thought, _that's more than most Targaryens give me_. The only sound heard in the room was Raemus slurping his soup. 'You have my interest,' Gaemon unexpectedly said, 'Go on.'

'I have deliberated with the grandmaester and he agreed that a regent should be named, now that King nor Hand can rule. But he insisted that the job should be offered to the crown prince first. So, in the name of the King, in name of the Hand and the small council, in name of our family and in name of the whole realm, I ask you, Gaemon Targaryen, if you desire to serve as regent?' It fell hard on her to speak these words. But it was mandatory to ask him. She hated that her fate – no, not just her own fate, but that of the whole realm – now lay in Gaemon's lavish hands.

She looked at Gaemon. The tension was eating her. Jaelyx and Aelora looked at Gaemon as well. Even Dania and Emelyn looked at him, who were not even supposed to be there anymore. Only ser Raemus showed more interest in his food, having or feigning no interest on the matter. When he did look up, he didn't look at Gaemon, but at Aelin's handmaidens. When Dania saw his gaze, she shied and took a step back.

'Well, this is an emotional moment,' Gaemon finally spoke. 'It is a hard choice you thrust upon my shoulder. I am speechless. I truly am undeniably speechless.'

He was playing a game with her, Aelin knew. Gaemon didn't want to rule, the both of them were aware of that. 'It is a hard choice. Do you want more of these hard choices thrusted upon your shoulders? Are you prepared to take such responsibilities?' The honest answers for Gaemon to both questions would be no.

'I think I must,' Gaemon said, determined to draw his farce even further. 'I have a duty towards the realm. There's no one else to do it, so it must be me.'

 _He wants me to say it directly,_ Aelin realized. He knew she wouldn't give up. She had no other option but to say it out loud, which was exactly where Gaemon was trying to get her. Reluctantly, trying to inhibit her anger, she said: 'I could do it. I am a Targaryen, just like you. I'm the Lady of Driftmark. For the last few years, I have managed the Velaryon fleet, the largest fleet in the Seven Kingdoms. I have established trade routes and made foreign allies for our house. The Kingdoms would be in good hands, experienced hands. Gaemon, do you want to sit on the Iron Throne and listen to the complaints of the lords and the smallfolk, do you want to manage the royal treasury and calculate incomes and expenses, do you want to wake up in the morning knowing that you will be busy from dawn till dusk and have no time for whoring or gambling or whatever you enjoy to do? Do you want to do all that, or would you prefer me to be the one to do it?'

Ser Raemus grinned, thwarting the dramatic effect Aelin had hoped to achieve with her speech. 'Did you find something funny in your soup?' she asked him.

'There are four Targaryens in this room. You're not one of them, no more than these – what are they – turtles in your soup. You're a Velaryon. You live at Driftmark and that is your place, not King's Landing.'

'I'm born in King's Landing so this is my place. I'm born to Aerion Targaryen so I am a Targaryen. You say I'm a Velaryon, not a Targaryen, but I assure you, I am both. I have dragon blood inside of me, and even if I hadn't I'd make a better ruler and a better person than you. The blood of the dragon you may have, but that's about the only gift the gods have given you.'

It was true Aelin kept using the name Velaryon, even after her husband's demise. She had inherited control of Driftmark, so it seemed fitting to honor the family name attached to the island. But it was mainly hate for her husband that swayed her to keep the name. She hoped he could see her from whichever hell the gods had locked him, now that she had taken over his name and his lands, his wealth and his ships. It was satisfying to know that she had not only survived Otherys Velaryon, but she had also stolen everything he owned, including his name and the pride associated with it. He and his death had been her stepping stone to wealth and power. Those years had not been in vain, those long years in the company of Otherys and the whip he loved to use. Compared to Otherys, Gaemon and Raemus were only spoiled little boys. She would overcome them, as she had overcome her late husband.

'No need for harsh words,' Gaemon said with a lying smile, 'I will consider every word you said. But surely, you cannot expect me to make that decision in a few minutes. In a few weeks' time, maybe a month, I can give you a more deliberated answer.'

You already made that decision long before I asked you, Aelin wanted to say. Instead she smiled. 'Take your time, Gaemon. In fact, why waste that time on dinner, when you could retreat to your chambers and think about this important life decision? I don't see a reason for you staying. And can you take your brother with you? He has proven to be utterly useless to this meeting.'

Gaemon grinned and dipped another piece of bread in his soup. 'Oh, Aelin, you are wrong. There is a reason for me staying, and that is this delightful soup. Nowhere near as good my cook could make it. It's always better to think clear if you have some good food in your stomach.'

'Very well, enjoy.' She then turned away from Gaemon, to Aelora. 'How's Elaena? Has she arrived in Highgarden yet?'

'I think so,' Aelora answered, 'When she wrote her last letter, it was only a few days ride to Highgarden. She should have arrived in the meantime. She has promised to write a lot of letters, but she had only taken a couple of ravens with her. So she should not waste them all at once.'

Aelin reached out and took Aelora's hand. 'I know it's hard to say goodbye to your children. But she's in a safe place. No harm will come to her amidst the Tyrells.'

'Are you sure?' Jaelyx asked.

'The Tyrells have not been our friends for long,' Aelin admitted, ' But Elaena's hand in marriage is a great honor for them and strengthens their power. They will be wise enough to acknowledge that. We keep the Tyrells happy and they will protect Elaena.' She took a deep breath. The next words would be hard. 'In times when war impends, it is best to keep your children far away from each other. If someone takes one of them prisoner, the other two may better be out of reach.' She had intended to say killed instead of taken prisoner, but changed her mind at the last moment. Aelora's eyes had gotten bigger than usual while she looked at her. She knew what Aelin was about to say. 'Jaelyx is second in line for the throne. His place is in King's Landing. But it might be better if Lucaerys left the city. If he could be fostered somewhere else.'

She had expected some emotional reaction from Aelora but instead she just looked in front of her. 'Would that be … the best thing?'

'I think it will be. I thought he might be fostered at Riverrun.'

'That's fine,' Aelora immediately said.

'Our friendship with the Tullys has survived throughout the years. They have sent us a ward, and we might return that courtesy. It will be the safest place for him. Our alliance with the Tully's is the strongest one we've got.' She turned to Gaemon. 'An alliance, which, frankly, I am surprised still stands, after what you did to them.'

Gaemon looked up. 'Lord Tully never blamed me. I thanked for him for letting me squire, and confessed I had no intention of becoming a knight. He understood. He was a man who could laugh at things. You should try it sometimes, sister. The muscles in your face must be exhausted from all the angry looks you cast at people.'

 _I reserve my angry looks for you_ , she thought, _and whoever else deserves it_. She did not wish to give him any more attention. She went back to speaking to Aelora. 'Lucaerys can depart within a month. He can take that dragon egg with him that I've been hearing so much about. And contrary to Elaena, his stay in Riverrun will only be temporary. He'll come back.'

Aelora nodded. There was no more to be said on the matter. Aelin was glad her fostering plan had been accepted, but the lack of emotion on Aelora's part concerned her. Would she react just as cold when one of her children was sent away? She chose not to think about it anymore. Instead, she asked Dania and Emelyn to serve the second dish.

No more matters were to be discussed, and Aelin kept herself quiet. Jaelyx and Aelora kept the conversation going; Aelora talked about the weather and the health of different family members, while Jaelyx shared the gossips he had heard about different lords. They did their best to involve both Gaemon and Aelin, even though they preferred not to speak to each other. No one talked to ser Raemus.

Aelin was relieved when the dinner came to an end. Her servants cleaned up the table, while she sat down at her desk, armed with parchment, ink and a sharp quill. She kept her girls close to her, to keep her company. They sat down on the ground, and discussed what had happened. Emelyn asked her mistress what she would do if she did become regent, while Dania asked her about ser Raemus. The man must have really terrified her, Aelin thought, if her thoughts were still troubled by his appearance. The next time ser Raemus appears at her doorstep, she would send him away, Aelin promised herself.

In the late afternoon, Emelyn announced a visitor. For a moment, Aelin hoped it would be Aelora, but to her disappointment, it was her husband. 'Good evening,' he said. There was a hint of fatigue in his eyes.

'Good evening,' she replied while still writing her letter, 'What is it you're holding?' She had noted the roll of parchment Gaemon held in his hand, sealed by red wax showing the three-headed dragon.

'My official statement that I decline the offer of regency and that I recommend you to take that position. Give this to the grandpa's in the small council, and that title you want so badly will be yours.'

Aelin almost dropped her quill. Had someone changed his mind? Jaelyx, maybe? Or was this his intention all along? She looked up at him and with some trouble pressed a formal 'Thank you' past her lips. Unwittingly, she started to feel excited, which broke all her tension. She forgot the letter that was lying on his desk and could not remember the words she had meant to write.

'Please, continue your letter,' Gaemon said and sat down at the other side of her desk. Dania had retreated to her room, but Emelyn was still there listening. That curiosity might get her killed one day, Aelin thought to herself. Gaemon bent over, trying to read what she was writing. 'Writing a letter to your children?'

'A debt settlement for the Iron Bank of Braavos,' she said. She would still have to write a letter to her children, she reminded herself. Her last letter had been way too long ago. They might get lonely or get worried about her if they didn't hear anything from her soon. Nevertheless, that would have to wait until she had finished dealing with financial matters. She took her quill back and continued writing in her impeccably neat handwriting. Not all these letters will be finished tonight, she perceived, she would have to write to her children the next morning.

'I might not say it all that often, but you look good, sitting there, looking all serious, ruling the Kingdoms for us all.'

'I don't do it for you,' she replied, 'I do it because I don't want that when Jaelyx inherits the throne, the Kingdoms will have been fallen apart by the blunders you would make.' That was harsh, she knew, but his comment had irritated her and she wanted to wipe off the statement as soon as possible.

'Hush, hush, why always these hard words? We are brother and sister after all.'

'I appreciate this,' Aelin said, holding up the roll Gaemon had given us, 'but it's not enough to make up for the horrid things you have done.' She spoke very calmly. She had had trouble containing her anger at dinner, and did not intend to end up in the same position. 'You might not have wronged me in person, but the things I've heard from Aelora, what you did to her … those are not things easily forgiven. You have done me justice today, but don't expect everything to be normal between us, until you make up for all your crimes against Aelora. And making up will take quite some time and effort. You started cheating on her before you were even married.'

'It is not cheating when you are not married, sweet sister.'

Aelin was pouring wax to seal the letters she wrote. Blue wax with the seahorse of house Velaryon. Words came easier to her when she didn't have to look him in the eye. 'You were betrothed, and would have been married already if father had his way. That you asked to postpone the marriage so you would have the time to see the world, that was a small slight, which might still be forgiven. But at the time you had agreed to come back, my sister waited for you in vain. I knew you aren't a punctual man, Gaemon, everybody can be late once in a while. But six months … Six months, Gaemon!' She shook her head. 'Father even sent out the Velaryon fleet to look for you. And when I found you,' she continued. She noted that she spoke more slowly and softly, 'When I found you in a pleasure house in Lys, looking after some whore and a bastard daughter you had planted in her belly, while your sister and betrothed starved herself from grief, that's a moment I cannot easily forget. Why do I feel like I need to keep reminding you? Doesn't that memory evoke any emotion from you?'

'Aelora is dull. Marriage to her was not an exciting prospect. That's the truth. This whore had five times more fire than Aelora. If I were to marry you, I might not have eloped. You are not dull. You have flaws, plenty of them, but that's not one of them. And I have my own flaws, I'm aware of that. We are all human and the gods have made human flesh flawed.' His hands had been playing with an empty ink pot at her desk, but suddenly they stopped, as he bent over to get uncomfortably close to Aelin's face. 'Tell me, Aelin, have you never dreamt that a knight would grab you, rip off your expensive clothes and fuck you violently? Did you never have any of those dreams, while you shared the bed of that gruesome figure Otherys?'

Blood ran through Aelin's head when she heard. She wanted to shout, defend herself, declare that marrying Aelora and marrying Otherys could in no way be equated. But she knew her anger would have no effect on Gaemon. As far as she could tell, if anything, he would enjoy it. 'Can you please go, Gaemon? I have more business to attend to, on behalf of the crown.'

'If the lady Regent says so. I'll let myself out then.'

Aelin kept working while the sun was setting behind the Sept of Baelor. Dania and Emelyn each came to her when they went to bed, and Aelin kissed them both on the forehead to wish them goodnight. She stayed up for much more hours. At one moment, she put aside the letter she was working on and started a new one. She addressed her daughter, informed her of her possible new position and inquired after everyone's health and safety. After that, words did not come easily to her. Meanwhile, a cool evening breeze blew across her room. Aelin shivered. She wore nothing more than the lavender dress she and Emelyn had chosen that morning. She looked up and overviewed the large and empty room. She was alone.

xxxx

 **Author's notes**

What a chapter it has been! It is definitely my longest chapter so far, and probably my favorite. It has been a rollercoaster to write, and hopefully to read as well. It surely contains a lot of new information about the characters and the situation in King's Landing. Special thanks for the submission of Aelin Velaryon (submitted by Lacie Neville).

I have received three new characters:

-ser Reynik Stark, 24, from a lesser branch of house Stark, member of the Kingsguard – Okibimar

-Godwin Goodbrother, 49, bannerman of house Greyjoy – Rougeification

-Helara Agnatheos, 25, daughter of a Lyseni noble family - Lacie Neville

 **Casting Calls**

First of all, I've decided to issue a rule that if you send in a character, you must wait for at least one new chapter to be released since your first submission, before you can submit a second. That would be to make sure that there are not too many characters who are still on waitlist to make their appearance.

Along with last time's casting calls, here are a few new suggestions:

-I have received three characters from the Iron Islands, and though I like all of them, they were all like-minded in a certain way. All of them are very fierce, outspoken and independent. If you send your own Ironborn in, make sure to make him a bit different. I'm sure there are cravens, schemers and diplomats on the Iron Islands too.

-If you want to, you can send in Aelin's eldest daughter or one of her other children. (But if they are not submitted, they will only have a small role)

-I would like to have extensions to the Agnatheos family: a father, mother, brother, sister or brother-in-law for Helara. You can also send in Gaemon's bastard daughter who lives at Lys, but for storyline purposes I would like her to have a link to the Agnatheos family. Please tell me if you plan to submit any of these characters, then I will give a bit of background info you might need to create him/her.

Especially for this chapter, I'm excited to hear your thoughts and reactions. And I would like to thank everybody who has taken his/her time to write a review. They've been both helpful and stimulating to my writing.


	9. The Hunt, Part 1

**Chapter 8 – The Hunt, Part 1**

'The most crucial moment of a hunt, is not the spotting of the wildlife or the killing of your target. It is the choosing of your weapons.' He had heard ser Darrick speak these same words many times before. 'The length or weight of a blade can make the difference between a success and a defeat. So take your time, Lyonel. Touch some of the weapons and feel their grip.'

Lyonel looked around. The Tyrell armory had enough weaponry to arm the entire Reach, he thought. As the eldest son, and as a newlywed man, his was the privilege to choose his weapons first. He preferred fighting with swords, and had trained at it for the better part of his childhood. He had hardly paid any attention to other weapons, and why would he have? He had gotten all the pleasure he had been looking for from the sword fights he had held with Roto Baratheon and Gawayne Hightower, or the ones he held in the streets and taverns of Highgarden with whoever challenged him. About bows and spears, he knew nothing.

Led by curiosity he looked around at the pieces of weaponry displayed on the walls. Darrick continued. 'I think we can rule out bows. Archery is not your strong point. A hunting spear would be a better choice for you.' Lyonel nodded, though he had his back to his uncle. He reached out to one spear he found especially attractive. Ser Darrick sniggered. 'The one of Ironwood? That one could pierce right through a bear if it's ably wielded. I've seen such things myself at Bear Island. But in these woods you'll never find a bear, only does, foxes and boars. This spear would be unnecessarily heavy. Try one of the lighter ones.' Lyonel continued his search, he picked some out at random, tried swinging them, and ultimately hung them back where he found them.

'There's someone here to see you,' ser Darrick said to him at one point.

He looked around and saw his sister Saylistra, such a small creature, standing in the doorstep. 'No, please, Lyo, go on. I didn't … didn't want to … I just wanted to see you.'

'You see me every day,' Lyonel said, 'Or is there something urgent?' He hoped he didn't sound too surly. The truth was, he didn't like the armory and wanted to be done as soon as possible. His lack of knowledge in the field of weapons shamed him now, especially since Darrick had always talked so much of it. But in his callow youth he hadn't paid any attention to his uncle's commentations, fancying that he already knew everything about how to fight. He felt ser Darrick's eyes in his back. With every moment that Lyonel would clumsily hesitate, Darrick's disappointment would grow. His uncle would not show it of course: he would remain as amiable as ever, and would give him the advice he needed. But Lyonel didn't dare ask him.

Saylistra did not take offense. When had she ever, Lyonel thought. 'Of course I see you often, but you're always busy. Talking to this lord, drinking with that lord … I never have time to speak with you in person. I … miss you, as silly as that may sound.' She blushed.

'Tomorrow the last ones will have left, Sae. But still, I've got a new lady now I need to entertain.'

'Elaena.' Saylistra took specific care pronouncing the name, as if she tried to speak a Valyrian word she had just learnt. That same name that could often make Lyonel nervous, seemed to have the opposite effect on his sister. A broad smile adorned her sweet face. 'How is she? Does she like Highgarden? It's not as large as King's Landing, not by far, and she doesn't have any family here. And the gardens, does she like the gardens? I haven't seen her there. Maybe it's the bees. If she doesn't like bees, she wouldn't like the gardens either. I like bees, but they sting and they buzz, and if she would think that's irritating ...'

The absurdity of her concern made Lyonel laugh. 'I'm sure the bees won't discomfort her, Sae.' Though there were plenty of other things that did, he could have added. Even if he was trying to be kind and compassionate, she looked unhappy. A smile was ever far off. He could never sway her to come with him, to the gardens or the great hall. She stayed in her room, in the company of her handmaidens and her Kingsguard, using some kind of excuse like a cold or fatigue. I am working hard for her, he thought, why can't she do the same? That stung him deeper than any bee ever could.

'She certainly is beautiful,' Saylistra said with a dreamy look clouding her pretty green eyes. 'Even more beautiful than Alyssa. Remember? She …'

Both Lyo and his uncle gave her an intense and worried look. Saylistra immediately stopped talking. The name of Alyssa Baratheon was no longer mentioned in Highgarden since the attack on prince Gaemon. The memory of her face close to his stabbed him through the heart as a dagger. Even the hearing of her name was something he still found hard to bear. That was not the only reason they had silenced Saylistra - the Tyrells, at least his father, had worked hard to rid themselves of their association with the Baratheons. And with Alyssa.

'Not where everyone can hear you, sweetheart,' his uncle whispered. Despite his soft tone, the severity was not lost.

Saylistra, ashamed, looked at the ground. Lyonel averted his eye and looked back at the spears. He tried to concentrate, he examined the handles and blades of every spear he passed … but was still unable to judge which one would suit him. In the background he heard his uncle Darrick's cheerful voice, presenting the weapons on the floor to Saylistra, who listened without once opening her mouth. He did not know if she was truly interested in what their uncle had to say, or if she was too polite to object. 'They may be old, these two treasures, but still sharp as the day they were grinded. That's something completely else than the combs you're used to, isn't it, Sae?' He laughed. 'But here's one you might like even better, girl. Don't you think it's a treasure? Elegant, you might even call it.'

'I like it,' Saylistra commented, 'Can I … maybe touch it? Lyo, look, don't you like this one?'

Lyonel quickly seized the opportunity. 'I like it very much, uncle, don't you think it would make a fine hunting spear?'

Darrick laughed. 'You do know how to pick them, Lyonel. The whole morning you look around but just can't find the one that suits you perfect, and when you see this one, right from the start, you know that's the one. That's the way real hunters do it. They recognize which steel will suit them in a glimpse of an eye.' Lyonel smiled politely at the compliment. 'I'll have it packed for the hunt.'

'Thanks for your help, uncle,' Lyonel said and walked away. His uncle muttered something like 'No problem'. Lyonel made his way across the courtyard, from the armory back to the main tower. Saylistra came behind him, half walking, half frolicking. 'Are you going to Elaena?' she asked him and he nodded. 'Maybe you would want to come along on the hunt?' he offered 'Then you'll get to spend some time with Elaena. You can sit with her, and with father and mother, while the men hunt. I mean, while the young men hunt.'

'No no,' she said while shaking her head resolutely. 'I don't belong in hunting parties. I'll stay in the garden. Elaena probably likes hunting, but I don't. I bet she has been to many hunts, living in King's Landing.'

To be honest, Lyonel didn't even know what Elaena thought of hunting. He hadn't even dared asking her to come with him. He wasn't ready for yet another improvised pretext of hers. She would use one for even the pettiest dinner invitation. Then he would have to tell his father why Elaena wouldn't come. His father would look disappointed and insist that he would ask her a second time. She would repeat him the same pretext, followed by a few quick apologies. Subsequently Lyonel would have to go to his father again and disappoint him two times in one day. That was, if he was lucky, and his father didn't request that he would ask her a third time. He did not want to run the same risk today. His parents had put a lot of preparation in this hunt, and Elaena's absence would spoil everything. He had found no other way than to declare at dinner that they would both come along. His wife had looked up and he had noticed a hateful fire in her eyes, even from across the table. He had wanted to say something kind at that moment, but had instead started talking about the wine. He knew that it was his right as her husband to command her, but it would have been nice if he could ask her and be sure she would consent.

The door to their room was on the second floor. The new room his father had given him. It was three times the size of his old room, had a separate bathroom, study and meeting room and splendid furniture adorned with gold. To be a lord, you must feel like one, his father had taught him. Lyonel did enjoy his new chambers, but he secretly desired to be back at his old room, closer to Saylistra and his younger siblings. He remember the many times when Sae had gotten scared at night and he had joined her under her warm blanket to comfort her. The bed he shared with Elaena, was cold.

When Lyo and Sae stood outside the door, Saylistra pulled his sleeve before he could open the door and enter. 'Lyonel?' she hesitantly asked, with a hint of worry in her voice. It instantly made her stop. He waited while Saylistra constructed her words in her mind. When she did speak, she kept her voice down.

'Elaena, is she dangerous? Don't laugh at me, I just … wondered.'

Lyonel was a bit taken aback. Where did this idea come from? Ever since the betrothal was proposed, all Saylistra could talk about was Elaena, and the things she wanted to do with her newly acquired sister. Yet he had done the same, he reminded himself, he had engaged in the same daydreaming, together with Saylistra, until he had recently felt the less colorful reality. Maybe his sister had undergone a similar realization, after she had seen Elaena for real. Elaena could have been unkind to her, or, gods forbid, she could have hurt her. 'No,' he answered as fiercely as he could without raising his voice. 'She's a child, you and her are the same age. Why would you think she's dangerous?'

'Because of that man.' She looked around her to make sure no one was listening.

'What man?'

'The man in the godswood. The ironborn.'

 _Corvo Greyjoy._ Lyonel had heard the name a handful of times before in the last years, the son of an official traitor, who had since stayed in Essos. His name hadn't meant much to him and hadn't lingered. Until some cruel god had decided to throw him into the life of the Tyrells. Now his father, his mother and his uncle spent entire days discussing him and his offer, instead of accommodating Elaena as they had promised. And apparently, he even haunted his little sister's thoughts. _He should have stayed at his salty rocks, reaving and scourging and doing whatever Ironborn liked to do,_ he thought bitterly, _instead of invading their lives just when everything had seemed to come together for them._

'What lies has he told you?' he wanted to know. He tried to smile. He hoped that would comfort Sae.

'He said that we aren't safe, when she is here. That … that she will tell her family everything we do. He called her a serpent, but I don't remember why.'

'She _can_ tell her family everything we do. They are our friends now.' _For now._ 'She's not evil, she's just a girl who has come here to look for a home.' _She had a home, but we took it from her._ 'So, we should make her feel welcome here, in her new home.' _Something I have failed at so far._ 'Shall we do just that?' Saylistra nodded with an uncertain smile.

Lyonel stood up, knocked on the door, remembered he wouldn't have to knock because it was his own room and entered. A beam of sunlight met his eye and troubled his sight. For a moment he thought Elaena wasn't there. An idle hope it was: he saw her striding towards him. Her silver hair was neatly braided, she was clod in a thick green dress and riding boots, around her neck hung her little necklace depicting a dragon. In King's Landing Elaena's temper had changed as often as the weather. In Highgarden, that was no longer true. Now she was a constant raging thunderstorm.

'Maester Osryck visited me today.' All he could see were her purple eyes, which were darker than her mother's. They had a dazing effect on him, as they narrowed with his lack of response. 'Again', she added.

Oh dear lord, Lyonel thought. 'He probably wanted to make sure if you were …' His voice grew frail. 'I mean, we chose the date of the wedding according to your monthly cycle. It would be a pity if we failed to get a child.'

'Nothing changed since the last time, Lyonel. I am not pregnant. Tell him that. I bled not long after the wedding night.'

'Maester Osryck apparently wasn't so sure if that was truly, you know, it. If he wanted to check one more time, well … He is the maester, he knows what he's doing,' Lyonel stumbled, suppressing his growing discomfort.

'Gods, Lyonel' she cried, 'I bleed lightly. Can we please stop discussing it? Just tell him I don't need to be examined over and over again. Especially not by him. He has the hands of a soldier, and the delicacy of one.'

'He won't bother you anymore. I promise,' he said and put his arms around her, as he usually did when he ran out of words to say. Elaena endured his embrace, patiently waiting until it was over. Even though she did not enjoy it, he did. He liked to feel her warmth, to smell her scent, to see her blond hair winded around his fingers. It were the only times he felt close to her.

'If you get a child, how will you name it?' Saylistra asked with a mixture of curiosity and shyness in her tone.

Elaena freed herself from his arms and Lyonel let her. She looked at Saylistra, and Lyonel could not help but wonder how it was possible that they were the same age. Where Saylistra was naïve and affectionate, Elaena was tough and sceptic. Perhaps this was because Saylistra had grown up in a caring and nurturing household, while Elaena had spent her childhood with figures like Gaemon. He could think of many words to describe Gaemon, but nurturing wasn't one of them.

'I don't know yet,' Elaena answered her sister-in-law's question, 'Perhaps you should ask your lady mother. I think there's a fair chance she'll be the one deciding it.'

Saylistra did not hear the resentment behind her words and continued with undiscouraged excitement. 'She chose my name as well. It was the name of a common girl that she grew up with and that was very dear to her, but she died during the Great Winter.'

'I think it's a very good name,' Elaena said and moved closer to Sae. 'You have beautiful hair.'

Sae giggled. 'Not as beautiful as yours. Yours is so … silver.'

'No,' Elaena nodded her head, 'my brothers, they have silver hair. And my cousins. They used to laugh at me because my hair was too dark to be Targaryen.'

'That's not fair. You can't help it if your hair is a bit darker. You're still their family.'

Elaena laughed. 'That's what families do. We all laughed a bit at each other. We laughed at cousin Rhaegel for his temper, at cousin Arian for being so small and at my brother Jaelyx for …' She paused a minute and when she continued, her voice was graver. 'Well no, we couldn't really laugh at Jaelyx.'

'You miss them, don't know?' Sae asked, 'We'll often go to King's Landing, the three of us.'

'I would like that,' Elaena said.

Please stop talking, Sae, Lyonel thought, before you make another promise I can't uphold. He didn't want to go to King's Landing. He didn't want to see her drunk of a father, her sour aunt Aelin, her violent uncle Raemus. The only one of her relatives who had been kind to him, was Aelora, her mother. But most of all, he feared he would lose all touch with her if he returned her to her family.

He cleared his throat. 'We should join the rest of the hunting party, Sae, Elaena.'

Elaena looked at him and nodded. Together they strolled back to the courtyard, he, his sister and his wife. This was his family, now, he reminded himself, and one day he'd be responsible for the both of them.

When they met with the rest of the party, they were joyfully greeted by all. While Sae shied away from so much attention, Elaena and Lyonel courteously responded and bowed to each of them. _At least she plays the role of my dutiful wife in public_ , he thought. _I guess I should be grateful for that_. She made a courtesy to all knights of the Tyrell guards, politely flirted with some of them, even complimented little Jonos on his beautiful new clothes, even though they were clearly too large for him. When she caught side of her Kingsguard, she left Lyonel to walk up to him. His name was ser Lester Crakehall and Lyonel hadn't heard him say a single word, but what he lacked in talkativeness, he made up for in height.

Lyonel went on to look for his father. He found him next to the carriage that was to transport himself, his wife and the younger children to the hunting pavilion. He wouldn't go hunting himself; his physical shape did not allow it and he had never liked it anyway. Still, he enjoyed sitting in the pavilion, surrounded by nature, while watching the young men of his house excel.

He did not make an impressive figure, Lyonel had to admit. He was short, a bit plump and looked older than he truly was. As usual, he was very finely dressed, this day in long robes dyed dark blue. While he was talking to Lyo's friend Gawayne, he stood bent forward, leaning on his golden cane with the handle of a rose.

'With your leave, my lord, I will have subdued the beast and slit his throat before you have dismounted,' Gawayne boasted.

'And with your leave, I'll gladly eat it once you did,' lord Tyrell answered and he laughed, shrill as the sound of a weasel in distress.

'Father,' Lyonel solemnly greeted his father. 'Gawayne,' he then said at a more playful tone and winked.

'Son,' his father said, 'You look well-rested. Are you ready to face the beast?'

'Depends what beast we're talking about.'

'A boar,' he answered. 'According to the smallfolk it's as big as a cow. But of course, they also say the towers of Highgarden touch the skies, so we might have to put that in perspective. Still, it still seems to be quite the beast. A decent prize for the man who brings it home.'

'What do you say, Lyo?' Gawayne Hightower asked, 'Shall you and I make a bet for who can fell the creature?'

That he did not look forward to. 'Not this time, Gawayne. I will be accompanied by lady Elaena and I'd prefer not to lead her too deep into the woods.'

'Of course, Lyonel, you should stay away from dangers like that,' his father said. _Was that a reproach or genuine concern_ , Lyonel thought as he watched his father walk towards his wife, who had their youngest daughter in her arms. He sometimes found it difficult to tell the two apart.

'So the princess will be with us?' Gawayne asked him as he .

'Yes, my wife will be there,' Lyonel answered. From this moment the two of you are one, he remembered the High Septon saying at their wedding.

'I always wanted to meet a Targaryen. A real Targaryen, not one of these arrogant purple-eyed jerks who can't shut up about how they have one drip of dragon blood in their veins.'

'Believe me, the main branch is no less arrogant.'

'Princess Elaena seems lovely though.'

You have only seen her public face, Lyonel thought. 'She's kind enough.'

'You don't sound madly in love. Or at least not as madly as you should be. The dragon lords don't often wed their daughters to people like us.'

 _I am attracted to her_ , Lyonel thought, _and I want to make her happy. If that's not love, then what is?_ He however answered his own question. A memory arose in his mind, of him and Alyssa, walking on the battlements of Storm's End, her hands in his. _She was to be my wife_ , it pained Lyonel to recall. His father had made the marriage pact with lord Baratheon in secret, to cement their alliance _._ They would have married, had he not fallen ill at the time. Instead, the wedding had been postponed, and the assassination attempt on prince Gaemon had scattered the friendship between the alliance and the plans for the secret wedding with it.

There was no point in pondering what might have happened if Gaemon had died as he was meant to. By a strange turn of events, Lyonel had ended up marrying Gaemon's daughter, and with his new bride came a new responsibility, which he was resolute to fulfill. He would make Elaena comfortable and her moods, her rage, her resentment, it would all pass. That much he promised himself. Perhaps it would be best to get her with child as soon as possible. Then she would no longer feel like an outsider in the Tyrell family. Then he and Elaena would be bound by more than a septon's sermon and a pact made by their fathers. Elaena would be the one to choose the name for the child, he decided. He tried to imagine Elaena with a suckling at her breast. The image unexpectedly pleased him. He straightened his back and watched as the portcullis was raised.

The party set off, led by ser Darrick Dustin and a few knights of the Household Guard. Then it was their turn: Lyonel and Gawayne looked at each other and spurred their horses. The rest of the party followed them. Among them was Elaena, seated on a chestnut mare, in the shadow of the gaunt Kingsguard who rode behind her. The beautiful, green gold carriage that carried his parents and the young children, formed the tail of the party.

With the wind at his back, the heir to Highgarden galloped through the muddy fields of the Reach. Everywhere they passed, the peasants looked up at the handsome young lord, in admiration of his noble countenance and elegant clothing, while none of them saw the worries he carried with him.

xxxx

Author's Notes

First of all, apologies for the - ahem- very long time that has passed. I got distracted by other projects and afterwards it became hard to immerse myself back in the story. While I was away, I noticed that I really missed writing this and I hated to disappoint my readers, who supported me with reviews and submissions. I'm happy to see you back and I plan to start publishing again on a regular basis.

Thanks to UltraCommando0946, who submitted Lyonel Tyrell. I really enjoyed writing through his POV. In fact, I planned for this chapter to be a lot longer, which made me decide to cut the chapter in half. The next part is yet to come.

Since I need to get back in the saddle, I would prefer if you would wait to submit new characters until the next chapter is published. I wish you all a pleasant day.


	10. The Hunt, Part 2

**Chapter 9 – The Hunt, Part 2**

The pavilion stood tall in an open spot in the grove, surrounded by light green grass, which in turn was surrounded by the light green foliage and white stems of rays and rays of gracious birches. The generous midday sunlight poured over their faces and made the knights' silver armor shine as diamonds.

When Lyonel arrived, he felt the sweat pour over his entire body. It was a pleasant sensation. Meanwhile Gawayne looked as clean as if he had just taken a bath, his hair in perfect place. How does he do that, Lyonel wondered. Elaena and her Kingsguard halted their horses right behind her.

'This is it,' Lyonel said to her. 'The Manderwood. The Tyrells' favorite hunting spot, and that of the Gardener kings before them.'

'It looks more like a grove than a wood,' Elaena commented.

Gawayne turned his head towards her. 'It's certainly not like the Kingswood at all. But to amend for its lack in size, it smells ten times as good.'

That part was true. Lyonel took a deep breath from the cool summer air. Everything looked, smelled and felt more beautiful here. It was easy to understand how his father got so attached to this place, even though he had never hunted.

Lyonel and Gawayne dismounted and gave the reins of their horses to the grooms. When Elaena came down, her horse made an unexpected movement and she fell down into the grass. Both Lyonel and ser Lester wanted to help her, but Gawayne was quicker to act. 'It's a beautiful place, but no need to kiss the ground, princess,' said when he offered her his hand

Elaena did even deign him worthy of a smile. 'Thank you, ser,' she said.

'Not at all. I'm sure any man would have done the same for the dragon princess.'

'Indeed,' she coldly responded. 'I have my own man here to do just that.' For a heartbeat Lyonel thought she meant him, before he realized she was speaking of ser Lester Crakehall.

'Lyonel, Gawayne, I trust you're ready,' ser Darrick said to them as a greeting while he strode towards them. He stopped to bow before Elaena. 'My lady, I hope that everything is to your satisfaction.'

'Thank you, ser. You can't imagine how much I've looked forward to this.'

'Excellent. Boys, the weaponry chest has been put next to stables, so go retrieve your weapons and get started, aye?'

The two friends obeyed and walk across the field towards the stables, while the sun met their faces. His parents' carriage had stopped. When lady Victaria left the carriage, at each side a child accompanied her, and lord Gestin left with his youngest child, his daughter Adelaide, in his arms. They would play in the grass, while the elder boys would play an entirely different game. Gawayne and Lyonel both found the spear they were looking for. As Lyonel picked it up, he acquainted himself with the grip. It was heavier than the swords he was used to, making it more difficult to master. The heir to Oldtown didn't seem to share this view: he deftly swayed it around him and threw it in the open ground. He then smiled at Elaena, who didn't bother to pretend to be interested.

Lyonel grabbed Gawayne's arm. 'I see what you're doing. Don't try to impress her.'

'Aye, you might be right,' he answered, 'I gather that with her it's all rather pointless.'

'Tell me, Gawayne,' Elaena suddenly said to both boys' surprise. 'What do you plan to use that spear on?'

'Well my lady, there are plenty of things in the woods that wouldn't benefit from a meeting with my spear. Of course, nothing that a dragon should be afraid of.' He winked. 'There's this one especially grim boar for example. Terribly large, tusks as big as cats, could devour a doe in one go. But that's not for today. I'll still bring you its head when I've killed it someday.'

'My brother always says not to wait till tomorrow for something you can do today. What holds you back?'

'For today I had something else in mind. I'd love to escort you and your stunning husband through the woods, if you would let me. And I wouldn't want to lead you too deep into the frightful Manderwood.'

She laughed. 'I grew up in King's Landing. I've seen worse. Let's find that beast, and see if you keep true to your word.'

'Next you'll tell me you want to fight it yourself. I should have known you wouldn't be scared easily. Often have I heard that dragons know no fear, but of course, they have the advantage of spitting fire.'

'If you kill the boar, I promise I'll spit fire to cook it.'

She's doing this to make me uncomfortable, it dawned on Lyonel. 'Gawayne, can I speak to you for a moment?' he said and pulled him away from Elaena.

When he had made sure Elaena couldn't hear them, he continued: 'Are you serious about this? She now expects us to go chasing after that boar. The one that has been described as demonic.'

'That means nothing. To the smallfolk anything's enormous.' He thought for a moment. 'But would it really be that bad if we went after it?'

'Gawayne! We can't kill it!'

'That doesn't matter,' he nonchalantly said, 'Even if we can't find it or can't kill it, it'll be an adventure, something we can laugh about later. And in the case we can kill it, we'll let you deliver the final blow, so you can impress your wife.'

Lyonel looked at Elaena. 'It won't be safe.'

'If ser Darrick comes with us, we'll be safe. That man has seen a lot in his life. He can handle a boar.'

 _I don't want this_ , Lyo thought as he turned to his uncle. Ser Darrick had just been talking to the knight of Cider Hall, who bore the unfortunate name of ser Foss Fossoway. 'How can I help you, boy?' he kindly asked him.

'Would you join us, uncle? We might want to go looking for the boar.'

His uncle rubbed his beard and laughed. 'Of course, Lyo. That will be quite the adventure. Let's go. We have a boar to slay.' He did not seem to share any of the doubts Lyonel had in his heart.

And so the five of them set off into the woods. Ser Darrick led the party, choosing the path they should walk without ever displaying a doubt. Gawayne was never more than a few steps behind him, his hand tight around his spear, eager to use it. Lyonel followed his friend with a whole lot less enthusiasm. Behind him came Elaena, who avidly looked around at her surroundings. The last and by far the most silent member of the group was the broad ser Lester Crakehall of the Kingsguard. But though he didn't say much, he seemed to enjoy himself as well, having a wide smile across his face.

At one point, ser Darrick signaled them all to stop and went further into the woods by himself. When he came back, he beckoned the two boys to come closer. The prey they saw as they lay next to him on a slope wasn't exactly a boar, but it would do as well. In the grass sat a drove of hares eating the grass. 'Shall we through our spears together?' Lyonel proposed to Gawayne.

'On my count,' Gawayne whispered back. 'Three … two … one!'

Both boys threw their spear, but while Gawayne's hit a hare through its thigh, Lyonel's fell down not far before them. No, Lyonel thought, why did this have to happen to him, and right away? Since the other hares were already fleeing, he acted quickly. He jumped up from the slope we're they had been hiding, ran up to his spear, grabbed it and chased the hares as they ran. When the hares got further and further out of sight, he undertook one last desperate attempt and hurled his spear forward with more strength than precision. The target it struck was unfortunately no hare, but rather the bark of a lofty maple tree. But he wouldn't give up. He was a Tyrell of Highgarden, and he would be able to defeat some hares. He ran forward to the tree and wanted to grab his spear, only notice it had gotten stuck. He tried pulling it, pulling it more strongly, pulling it with his food on the bark of the tree, pulling it out by trying to move it from left to right. It would not yield. 'Lyonel,' his uncle's voice called behind him.

Lyonel turned around. His uncle shook his head at the sight of the spear. 'Let me try,' he said and after a few attempts the spear finally left the tree. At least for the most part. The point had chosen to break off. 'We can't use this spear any more. Shame,' his uncle said. Exasperatedly Lyonel looked around.

'I think the hares are gone by now,' Elaena commented, standing a bit further back. And as soon as he saw her, Lyonel felt ashamed, ashamed of trying to impress her. _I could at least try to impress her with something I'm good at_ , Lyonel said to himself as they walked back. They found Gawayne flaying the hare with the help of ser Lester.

'Lyonel and I will go back to get a new spear for him,' ser Darrick told them, 'Will you stay here in the meantime?'

Elaena looked at Gawayne and ser Lester. 'Let's try to hunt some more hares. Or perhaps even that boar,' ser Lester said. Gawayne smiled at that and Elaena nodded. 'No time to lose then', she said, 'I'm hungry for boar.'

'We shan't take long,' ser Darrick said. Together the two of them set off, he and his uncle. Lyonel held his head down. He did not dare to speak with his uncle.

When they arriving back at the pavillion, they were greeted by his youngest sister Adelaide, a toddler of four, who came towards them. 'Lyo! Uncle Darrick!' she shrieked with excitement. Ser Darrick laughed. When Adelaide reached them, she took Lyonel's hand and pulled him towards the pavilion with all the strength a four-year-old disposed of. 'Mom and dad ask for you.' Lyonel followed her with surprise. His uncle wanted to stay behind, but Adelaide turned around and said 'Come along.'

The pavilion looked like a castle in a much smaller scale. It had a hallway, a few bedrooms and quarters for servants. But they found his parents in the small parlor, just the two of them, lying on canapes while eating the fruit that was displayed on the table. Reachmen were exceptionally proud of their own grown fruit, Lyonel knew, for they were the only region that almost never had to rely on others for their food supplies.

Adelaide was the first to enter and she ran straight to her mother, who caught her in her loving arms. 'Well done, Addy,' she said and pressed a kiss on her forehead. 'Now go and play outside with the other children. And don't stray too far off.'

'When is it too far?' the cheeky child responded.

Their mother looked into her eyes for a short while. 'Well my love, it's not too far as long as you can see a Tyrell guard, and a Tyrell guard can see you.'

She seemed to think that was a fair arrangement, because she ran off to go and play, zigzagging around Lyo and ser Darrick.

'Please come and sit down with us,' his mother said sternly, now turned to Lyonel. He found it strange how fast the tone of her voice could change. He sat down in between them with equal distance. He saw in his parents' eyes that they intended to discuss something serious with him. Did he do something wrong? Did they blame him for that he couldn't get Elaena to fit in at Highgarden?

'So how's Elaena?' his father asked him.

Lyo bit his lip. Of course it had to be about Elaena. Every moment of his life had to be about Elaena now. He didn't want to have this conversation yet, and before he knew it an easy lie escaped from his tongue: 'Good.' His father nodded and took a large bite from one of the plums. 'She really enjoys the woods,' Lyonel added, 'She's still accompanying Gawayne while he hunts.'

His father gulped down his piece of plum and frowned. 'Just with Gawayne?'

Ser Darrick was the one who replied. 'And her Kingsguard. She'll be safe.'

'That's not my only concern. Go back to her, ser Darrick, and make sure she is surrounded by Tyrell knights at all times during the hunt.'

'If that is your wish, my lord.' Ser Darrick bowed and left Lyonel alone with his parents. The conversation would not be over yet, Lyonel sensed and nervously looked at both his parents in turn.

His mother waited until the door had been closed again, before she spoke. 'I take it you are familiar with the offer lord Corvo Greyjoy has made us.'

That took him by surprise. 'I am. I'm also familiar with the medium he chose to deliver us his message.'

'You disapprove of it?' his father asked. 'I rather appreciate his discretion.'

'I see more reason for taking offence than for appreciation. His words still trouble Saylistra's thoughts.'

'She's not a little girl anymore', he said decisively, 'She shouldn't be kept in the dark about what is truly happening.'

'And you shouldn't either,' his mother added and handed him an apple.

He took a careful bite, but put it down quickly to study both their faces. 'You plan on accepting his offer,' he guessed.

'Indeed,' his father said. It sounded as if he had trouble letting the word pass his lips. 'Tomorrow ser Darrick will bring him that answer.'

'You've seen for yourself what the Targaryens are like,' his mother said, 'Prince Gaemon is a pig in human form. He disgraced you at your own wedding tournament. Do you remember the hundreds of people that sat in those tribunes? Did one of them protest, anyone? No. And that's dangerous. We can't serve someone that can eliminate us without a single soul daring to protest.'

'Not all of them are as bad as Gaemon. And Gaemon is not the one in power.' He felt strange vindicating a family he despised. He thought of Lucaerys, the little boy who had stared at him with fascination and had asked him endless questions. He thought of Aelora, who had comforted him the day before his wedding, when he hadn't even dared to share his fears with his own parents. And finally, he thought of Elaena. She wasn't a bad person. The girl had her heart in the right place. She was just a little lost in the world, since she suddenly had had to trade her home for a new one.

'King Aerion is not as bad,' lady Victaria admitted, 'Not to say that he's kinder, but he's more cautious. He will leave us in peace, as long as we stay loyal.'

'But Aerion lies on his deathbed,' her husband continued, 'And I don't ever want to serve king Gaemon. We have to think in the long term, son.'

 _How can it be more safe for us to betray the Targaryens by joining an ironborn on a doomed mission than to stay faithful to a promise we've made_ , he thought. 'Well then you should have made up your mind before you wed me to Elaena. I have a duty towards my wife, and I can't fulfill that if we war against her family.' He stood upright, looking down at his parents, and ready to leave. 'I want no part in this.'

'You have the most important part in this of us all. Are we sure Elaena is not pregnant? If she's not, you have to get Elaena with child as soon as possible.' Lyonel opened his mouth to answer, but while he was considering which of the many concerns that stormed through his head he should pronounce, his father had started to speak again, very carefully, mutedly, often interrupted by brief pauses, whether from uncertainty or for dramatical effect Lyonel could not tell. 'And if the Targaryens should be defeated and we helped do it, and we have at our disposal a Tyrell with Targaryen blood, that means we have a claim to the throne.'

'Now is the time to assume your duties to this family, Lyonel,' his mother added.

While his father spoke, he had been struck with disbelief, but it was his mother's comment that turned his disbelief into anger. He remembered a moment like this a few years back, when he had been alone with his parents, when they spoke with the same grave and slightly accusing tone they now wielded, and his mother – or was it his father? – had said something similar to what she had said now.

It had been right after the duel where he had lost his eye. In his youth, he had considered himself a great swordsman and had regularly slipped away to fight in the streets with whoever dared to be his opponent. At first he usually lost, but when he started winning more often, it tasted even sweeter and the urge to fight grew irresistible, even at times that were most inopportune. He also grew reckless in choosing his opponents. No longer did he turn to stable boys and guardsmen; he felt more excitement in combatting sellswords and sinister travelers, and excitement was what he was craving for. One time he chose his opponent very badly. He lost the fight and the price he had to pay for his defeat had been dear. Maester Osryck hadn't been able to save his left eye after his opponent's dagger had pierced it.

His parents had been furious. Lyonel had been their golden son and they had blinded themselves for his flaws. As he had lain on a bed that might have become his deathbed, as a consequence of his own recklessness and stupidity, the illusion that they had created for themselves had blown up right in front of them. The day they knew for certain Lyonel would survive, the both of them came to his room and thoroughly scolded him for all his past misbehaviors. From now on, he would never disgrace his family again, or they would have no place for him. _Every word they say to me I have deserved_ , he had realized at that moment, to his own shame.

Each time his parents reminded him of his duties, Lyonel had shrunk inside, afraid to betray their trust. Even when they were not actually spoken, he felt the words in the looks they cast him. And then he would promise himself that he would do whatever they desired of him and that he would make them proud. But that ended today. Today they had betrayed his trust, not the other way around.

He started speaking again, a bit jumbled, not knowing where to begin. 'You plotted with the Baratheons and then betrayed them for the Targaryens. And now you want to turn your cloak again. What side are you truly on? I followed you, cast Alyssa aside for another, because you asked me to. What will happen to the reputation of our house if we turn cloak two times?'

Lord Gestin was silent for a while. His wife looked at him sympathetically. He finally spoke: 'I never meant to turn my back on the Baratheons. I held them dear, even if you don't believe me. Still I do not fully regret bending the knee to the dragons. You might say I have the blood of lord Baratheon on my hands, and in a way I do. My only defense is that I thought he would be dead either way. And I thought this was the only way to save my house.' He looked at Lyonel to see if he had a response to that. When he did not, his father continued. 'Now we can all see the truth in that. I can help them now.'

'In what way have you tried to help her?' he bounced back.

'I'm trying right now,' he said resolutely, 'I intend to finish what lord Wilmar Baratheon and I started. I will give them victory, at last.'

For a moment Lyonel was tempted by this idea, but that delusion quickly faded. This wouldn't help Alyssa and her family, this won't only put them at greater risk. He thought of Alyssa, hostage of the Targaryens. Her safety hangs by a thread, he thought, and my father's plan might inadvertently cut that thread. He shook his head. 'This is not the way.'

He would never know what his father meant to say to that, because that was the moment when ser Darrick burst into the room, sweaty and distraught.

'Ser Darrick, please …' his father said, but interrupted himself when he saw his brother-in-law paid no attention to his words, but instantly knelt before them, his head facing the ground. Lyo's parents looked at each other with worry.

'I'm so sorry, my lord, my lady. We can't find her.'

Lady Tyrell swiftly stood up. 'Who?' she asked, but Lyonel already knew and he guessed his mother did too.

'Princess Elaena.'

Lady Tyrell's face turned red. In a few fast strides she left the room, and her brother followed her. Lyonel's father tried to get up and Lyonel quickly ran up to help him. They left the room together, Lyonel supporting the frail older man.

Outside there was growing turmoil. All the guests and servants had noticed something was not right. Men came riding into the woods, talked to his mother or father and left again for the woods, as swiftly as they had arrived. Even the horses became uneasy and had to calmed. Lyonel stood in the middle of it all, numbed.

After the period of turmoil came the desperation, and it hurt even more. As the party rode back to Highgarden, there was no joy among the riders, not a hint of laughter. Even Gawayne was unusually quiet.

When they arrived in the Highgarden courtyard, Saylistra came running up to them, but instantly stopped when she saw the stern faces. 'What … ?' she asked.

'In a moment,' her mother quickly responded and put her arm around her. 'Come along.'

'Ser Foss,' her father called out to the knight of Cider Hall, 'Make sure every horse is led back to the stables and that every man goes back to work. And appoint someone to bring the children back to their rooms.'

'Yes, my lord,' the handsome knight said and bowed.

Lyonel strode behind his parents and sister. They entered the castle corridors and went straight to his parents' chambers. His mother opened the door and gently but decisively asked the maids that were making the beds to leave them alone. They quickly hurried off, and Lyonel did not doubt that they would soon hear the news.

His father sat down on his bed, and Lyonel took place next to him. Saylistra sat down on the floor, impatiently waiting for any of them to speak. Their mother closed and barred the door after she had made sure no one was listening and started pacing around the room.

'What has happened?' Saylistra asked them in a high voice.

'Elaena's gone,' their mother said rather brusquely.

All color withdrew from the girl's face and she looked at her father and her brother, as if hoping they would tell her it was all a joke. Their father nodded and said: 'We kept searching her for more than an hour. Ser Darrick has stayed behind, in case he should find a trace of her.'

Saylistra raised her eyebrows. 'Is that likely?'

Lord Gestin sighed. 'The Manderwood is not that big. And it's surrounded by watchtowers and villages. It shouldn't normally take long to find her. The problem is that logically, she should have been found already.'

The four Tyrells were quiet for a moment.

'She's been abducted,' the girl gloomily said.

'I think not,' their mother said, 'Her Kingsguard is missing as well.'

'Which might mean that she decided to run away,' their father continued.

'That she decided to run away?' said lady Victaria with anger in her voice. 'I'd say her family has taken her back. We should have seen that the marriage agreement was too good to be true.'

Another moment of silence hung in the room.

Lyonel's fingers curled around his dagger and without averting his eyes from the ground, he slowly said: 'I know who did this.'

xxxx

Author's notes

Last chapter I would not accept charactes because I just returned. I failed rather spectacularly at that, accepting three Targaryens, a Fossoway and a commoner in the meantime.

I really enjoyed writing this chapter, especially the scene between Lyonel and his parents. Seeking the right balance between politics and emotions makes it so interesting to me, and I'm still not completely sure which side I agree with.

On to more practical matters: I've adapted the introduction quite a bit in the meantime. Besides a few adaptations to the form, these are the most important changes:

\- You must now wait for two chapters to be released before you can submit a new character. So the people who submitted before this chapter, must wait until the next chapter is out.

\- I will now place my casting calls in the Introduction instead of after individual chapters. If you want to submit a character that's not in these casting calls, you have to ask permission first.

Hope you guys enjoyed and see you next time!


	11. Storm's End

**Chapter 10: Storm's End**

Roza stuck to the shadows. The high midday sun poured over Storm's End, accompanied by a sobbing wind. In the first few months, Roza had looked down. Now she was confident enough to see the castle as it was: a ruin.

One year ago, the dragons had come. Dragon's Night, it had been dubbed, though she did not know by whom. A quiet night had turned to chaos when two winged beasts came dashing from the sky, spitting fire and destruction. The same had happened to Stonehelm, Golden Grove and Brightwater Keep the same night, as punishment for a treason most inhabitants were unaware of.

She dreamt of the day when life would return to the castle, when the lofty towers would point to the stars once again, unbroken, when the gardens would bloom as they did before. But at this point, that wish contained no more truth than any other dream of hers. Her surroundings served as a constant reminder to her of the hell Storm's End had become.

The battlements had been broken and burnt. Entire walls had collapsed. The Baratheon stag still hung from the gate, but was surrounded by two Targaryen dragon banners. But most noticeably, the courtyard was near empty: no tradesmen stalling their goods, no knights training for battle, no more than a few servants running around. Almost half of them were dead, the other half scared. It had not been dragon fire that had killed most, but what came after. The Targaryens had sent a garrison to Storm's End to subdue any spirit of rebellion among the nobles and commoners alike. Since then, many had been fed to the gallows.

Susanna, one of the kitchen maids, had spit at some soldiers and had cursed the king. Or so they claimed. Roza hadn't been there to hear it, nor had any other person she knew. The day after her body had hung from the wooden bar, her head faced down, perhaps in remorse. Ramon, the castle smith, had hidden away some weapons he had forged. The garrison had suspected he was procuring them for a rebellion. Whether he had truly had such plans or not, the gallows had taken his life before the plan he had possibly devised was given the chance to bear fruit.

The wooden construction that decided over the life and death of the people of Storm's End, stood proudly in the middle of the square. A noose dangled from the wooden bar, as if invitingly. The servants all avoided to be near it. A few soldiers in red and black were seated at its foot, making jokes to one another. When Roza walked past, one of them looked up. 'Ever slept with a king's man, girl?' he shouted. Roza ignored him and accelerated her pass. 'You, girl in grey, don't be shy, come here and flash me your tits,' the soldier added. His companion laughed. 'No matter how much you shout, you won't be able to get her into your bed, Bryan. She's cold as ice, that one.'

That's the smarter one of the two, Roza thought. She casually glanced at the soldier who had shouted at her. Bryan, the other one had called him. I will remember that face, she said to herself and continued her way, silent as a mouse.

In the past, people had frowned at her when they crossed her in the hallway. Now most hallways were empty and when a lonely passer-by happened to cross her path, they looked at her with more suspicion than contempt. It was hard to know who could be trusted in Storm's End, who might sell your secrets to the Crown's garrison, and Roza was never trusted very much to begin with.

The sept was the only room that contained more people nowadays. When she passed by the doors, she could hear the soft mumbling of prayers, at least twenty different ones. Septon Olymer stood by the statue of the Crone, his head piously bent before the goddess. He did not speak. Perhaps he prayed in silence. Perhaps he was simply dozing off. Roza did not know what he could be praying for. Many men in Storm's End had lost everything the night the Targaryens avenged their lord's betrayal, but not septon Olymer. The Targaryens did not want to hurt a man serving the gods, so his wealth and power had remained unscathed.

This sight made Roza bite her lip. How could the people of Storm's End still serve these gods and his man so meekly? Where were they when the dragons came and destroyed their homes? The gods had remained absent, and the handsome septon had worked together with their oppressors. What reason was there to think they would help them in the future?

Seeing the seven statues and the crowds around them made her feel sick, and angry. Especially angry. She quickly turned around, climbed the stairs and hurried to her lady's chambers. There she composed herself. She knocked on the door and patiently waited for lady Baratheon to answer. No answer came. She knocked again, harder this time and heard a moaning sound from behind the wooden door.

'Who is this?' lady Baratheon asked sharply.

She stepped closer to the door. 'Roza,' she answered, almost as a whisper.

'The door's unlocked.'

Roza opened the door and gasped for breath. Even though it was well past noon, the curtains were closed. The air smelled of dust and sweat. Lady Millecya Baratheon lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

'I did not want to get up,' she said to Roza, as if she had to apologize to her for her current state. But it was not her role to judge her. 'There's nothing for me outside this room.'

'Maester Tydus sent me,' she said, while she reached for the bottle inside a pocket of her dress. 'He thought this might help you with your stomach cramps.'

Lady Millecya got upright. She was a meagre thing, looking almost sickly. Since the day her husband was executed, her body had lost half its weight, her face had lost its shape and her beautiful amber-colored eyes lost the life light which used to burn inside them, having been replaced with resentment and fatigue. 'When does Roto return from Tarth?'

'According to the letter maester Tydus received yesterday, he will arrive tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow,' she said, as if tasting the word. 'I'll feel much better when I know he has safely returned.' She stroked a few dark brown hairs from her face. 'You said you had a brew for my stomach cramps?'

When Roza handed her the bottle, her lady reached out her bony arm to take it and smelled at it.

'Did you brew it?' she informed.

'Under the supervision of maester Tydus,' Roza answered. To other people she refrained from revealing that she was the one making the potions instead of the castle maester, but to lady Millecya that didn't matter. She had always trusted Roza, she had even allowed her to work at Storm's End, when the girl had been completely alone in the world.

Millecya drunk the potion in one gulp. 'I think it's time to face another day.' Then she got up and searched her wardrobe. Meanwhile Roza remained where she was, patiently waiting for her lady to give her a new order.

'Has there been any trouble today?' she asked Roza while choosing her clothes.

'No, my lady. It's been a quiet day so far. A few arrests, a few beatings, but by Storm's End's standards, almost peaceful.'

She rolled her eyes. 'It's never peaceful at Storm's End. There's a war going on between these walls, and when it's quiet, it's being waged in silence.'

'A war of shadow against shadow.' Roza paused. 'Would you like for the war to stop, my lady?'

She sighed and stared at the wooden floor. 'We can't win it. I see that. We don't have enough men behind us. So yes, I would like it to be over, to be able to live in peace with my children.' She picked up a thick black dress from her wardrobe and closely studied it. 'That is, if giving up didn't meant giving those damned dragonlords exactly what they wanted. Help me put this dress on.'

She handed Roza the dress, who skillfully draped it around her lady. 'In the end, the Targaryens always get whatever they want. That's the way it has always gone.'

'Whatever and whoever they want,' lady Millecya assented. A moment of silence hung between the woman and the girl, their thoughts left unspoken. Instead Millecya fastened the belt of her black dress. Roza wondered if she wore black out of mourning, or because it was the Baratheon color. It didn't matter much. In these times being a Baratheon meant being in mourning.

Together with her lady, Roza made a stroll through the castle. Lady Millecya didn't have any role in governing Storm's End, but she liked to walk around and see the people. Each time a commoner greeted her, her face lit up a bit and she gave them a friendly nod. Each time a commoner walked her by or just stared at her, she hastened her pass and didn't look him in the eyes.

Time after time Roza realized how painful this walk was for her lady, and she understood why she didn't want to get up some days. Every once in a while, she'd stop and point at a part of the castle with a special memory attached to it. 'There used to be a trading village right there, do you remember it? Merchants would sell us wines from the Arbor or spices from the Free Cities. If you look closely you can see that two of the houses still stand,' she said at one point or later, 'That's the gate where I entered when I came to marry lord Wilmar. I wore a cloak decorated with two swans and I remember feeling so excited. No day is as exciting as the day when you wed a kind man.' While she spoke, she pointed at a pile of rubble that no stranger would have guessed was once a gate.

As they walked and as the sun got lower and lower in the sky, her lady's gaze became more shrouded in nostalgia and her gait more absent-minded. More than once lady Baratheon would have tripped, had Roza not grabbed her hand just in time.

When her lady got tired, they sat down on a bench close to the provision chambers. A guard dressed in Targaryen colors walked by with a boy from the kitchens, both singing "Off to Gulltown", loud and badly. At the sight of their lady, they brusquely stopped. The man greeted lady Baratheon with a polite nod of the head and walked further on, with the child frolicking before him, but Roza noticed that the man's eyes had skeptically lingered on her.

'Alyssa used to come here a lot,' lady Millecya told her. 'When I was cross with her. She didn't try hard enough at singing or dancing to my taste at the time. I thought she would enjoy it as I did if only she tried a little harder, and I forced her to continue these lessons despite her objections.'

'You did what you thought was best,' Roza kindly spoke. She had only known Alyssa for a few years, a small girl with a wealth of black curls who preferred to be left alone most of the time. That was, unless the Tyrells came to visit. Then she could spend hours walking in the woods with their eldest son, but Roza was wise enough not to bring that up in front of her lady.

'Anyway, when her father or I said something to her she didn't like, she would run away and hide, and none of us could find her. Until one day, a servant found her between the stacks of hay. She was so angry we found her secret hiding place that she didn't speak to me for weeks.'

Roza put her arm around her. Her lady's eyes had turned red, but not one tear was to be seen. 'It keeps me up at night, you know? All the times when I could have been more understanding. The happy moments I forget, but the painful ones, those stick.' She rubbed her eyes. 'Roza, could you ask maester Tydus for some more milk of the poppy? To fall asleep more easily.'

'Yes, my lady,' she said and bowed. She took one last look at lady Millecya, seated alone amidst her castle. Then Roza walked away.

A soft drizzle had started to fall from the sky as she returned to the maester's chambers. Angry rain drops spat against the brick walls, making it seem as if the walls were violently crying. Roza pulled her thick grey dress more tightly around her body, but to no avail. The wind and the rain both managed to find their way beneath the dress and scraped against her body. She shivered, and went from walking to running.

When three guards came down the stairs that led to the maester chamber, she noticed how their eyes were set on her. She quickly averted her gaze, not to attract their attention, and when she climbed the stairs, she hoped that she would be able to get past without any filthy remarks thrown at her. 'Girl,' one of the guards said to her.

She kindly smiled at him, while glowering with her eyes. This would not be her lucky day. 'Please excuse me, I have an urgent message for maester Tydus. I would be happy to help you some other time.'

But before she could even finish that last sentence, the most robust of the guards had grabbed her arm and forcefully bent it on her back.

'I serve lady Millecya …' she protested.

The guards didn't pay her words any attention. The muscular one grabbed her other arm and swiftly bound them together. Roza let out a shriek, from pain or surprise she could not tell. A second guard spoke to her in a remarkably calm voice: 'Girl, you are arrested for spreading calumny and conspiring against the Crown and house Targaryen.'

She grew restless, desperate to find a way to escape. She looked at the guards' faces, and quietly wished she had paid more attention to the soldiers in the garrison while she had the chance. Then she might have known their names and their weaknesses. It was always more difficult to fight an enemy you didn't know. Then suddenly, when they pulled her away from the stairs and forced her to walk, the third guard, the one who had remained unmoved so far, stepped into the light and in the brink of the second she recognized him. He was the soldier she had seen earlier than day. Bryan. That was good. Now she had at least one name to curse.

The small procession formed by Roza and the three guards escorting her evoked the curiosity of the people of Storm's End. They looked out of their windows, or halted at the doorsteps. Roza could not tell if they sympathized with her or were pleased with the prospect of seeing her hang. Most likely of all, they would all be indifferent, thinking that it could better be her to end on the rope than themselves or their loved ones.

The gallows looked as sorrowful as it did before. Raindrops spat at its feet. Not far from the construction septon Olymer, dressed in his holy garbs, spoke with ser Benfrey Staunton, the head of the Crown's garrison. When they saw the condemned girl arriving, both kept silent. The castle septon was a tall young man, considered handsome by many of the girls. Roza wondered if they would change their minds if they saw his face right then, twisted with anger. Ser Benfrey made a rather different impression. He was bald and meagre as a skeleton, with dead green eyes. But there was no sign of anger on his face. That's not the man who ordered this, she thought, simply the one who had allowed it.

The soldiers led her up to the platform. As Bryan slipped the noose around her head, she thought of Susanna, Ramon and all the others who had preceded her. She remembered Susanna, who had resisted till the moment her last breath got choked in her throat. She remembered Ramon, who had taken his fate more quietly, contenting himself with saying goodbye to the people he had loved. And she remembered her mother, many years before the others, her naked feet hovering above the grass. Roza trembled and though she resisted a few tears escaped from her eyes.

Septon Olymer mounted the platform and formally asked 'Do you have anything to say for yourself?' But Roza had no final words to speak, nor any person to speak them to. The square was empty, beside some small servant boys whose curiosity was drawn. No friends had come to support her, and she hadn't expected it any other way.

That didn't seem to bother the septon. He spread his arms and began a sermon. Roza closed her eyes and wished she could stuff her ears as well, and deflect Olymer's poisonous tongue. He spoke of the Father's justice, the Mother's mercy and the Stranger to whom she would be handed. _If I meet the Stranger_ , Roza thought, _I'll slap him in the face_.

But suddenly the septon's lengthy sermon was interrupted by a single voice. 'Ser Benfrey, I beg of you …'

Roza opened her eyes again. In a corner of the square stood lady Millecya Baratheon in the woolen black dress they had put on together. Her eyes met Roza's with sorrowful sympathy.

'Lady Baratheon.' Ser Benfrey's voice was courteous. 'You'd better go to your rooms. There's no need for you to see this.'

'Of what crime is she guilty? All she did was help people in need.'

'That might be so, my lady, but she has also slandered house Targaryen and encouraged the spirit of rebellion. I'm sorry, but this is no longer within your power.'

'I know that, ser Benfrey. And I respect your authority, as well as your insight in such matters. Still, it would vex me if I were to lose Roza. She has been a great friend to me in dark times.'

'Sometimes betrayal comes from those who we suspect the least. That must not stop us from delivering justice.'

'Then I shall acquiesce in whatever you think is right. But I will remember her fondly. I've seen her grow up from a little girl into a beautiful young woman.' A few tears rolled down her cheeks. 'Especially since I could no longer see that development in my own daughter. I thought that with the loss of Alyssa my happiness would be lost too, but through Roza I could find it again. The two of them have the same smile and each time she smiles at me…' Her voice broke for a moment and when she spoke again, her voice was much more fragile: '… it's almost as if I have my daughter near me again.'

When he saw lady Baratheon trembling, ser Benfrey came up to her and kindly draped her arms around her. Millecya let her head hang on his shoulders. Her eyes were red with tears and her legs trembled so much that it seemed as though she would fall to the ground if ser Benfrey would let her go. 'Go back to your room, my lady,' the knight spoke to her, 'I'll make sure you won't be short of anything you need.' Then he turned to the septon. 'Release the girl.'

Septon Olymer's face twisted in a growl and for a moment it seemed as if he might protest, but the soldiers had already moved to obey their leader. The rope around her hands was cut and her neck was relieved of the noose. As soon as she was freed, Roza ran down towards her lady and together they walked away.

With every step that removed them from the gallows and the awful men who fed it, her lady gained confidence. 'How dare they?' she hissed, 'How dare they touch you? Those wretched pigs! You're under my protection and I won't let them forget that.'

'My lady,' Roza carefully asked, 'you never told me Alyssa and I had the same smile.'

Lady Millecya looked at her for a short while. 'Of course you don't. When Alyssa smiled, it came from the deepest depths of her heart and you could see right into her soul. You have more of a smirk than a smile.'

That reaction evoked one of Roza's well known smirks, and she realized the joy of having a friend by her side. Then their ways separated, lady Millecya back to her room, and Roza to maester Tydus, the other of the true friends she had amassed during her time in Storm's End.

The kind old maester sat with her the entire evening. He had made spice wine for both of them, and they drunk it together. The old man's moss green eyes were filled with deep compassion. 'I'm glad you're alright, Roza.'

She looked up from her cup. 'You needn't worry, Tydus. I always land on my feet.' She said it to acquiesce the old man; he did not deserve any more worries troubling his head. But her face was pale and her voice had trembled as she spoke, revealing her lie.

'Perhaps you'd better stay inside more, my dear child. You could help me copy some of maester Radimir's damaged scrolls, and put your knowledge of letters to use.'

'You don't need any help there. You like doing that. I'd be of much more use to you tending to the ill.'

'That's true … but perhaps it's safer for you to live a more retreated life for the time being.'

'I promise I won't get myself into trouble,' she quickly answered with a wicked smile.

'Good,' the old man said and smiled, creating dimples in his cheeks, 'because if ser Benfrey and his men want you dead, they'll take any excuse.'

She straightened her back and leant forward with curiosity. 'Tydus, have you ever treated ser Benfrey?'

The maester thought for a moment. 'No, he hasn't been here once. He's still in his prime, and still in good shape.'

'Septon Olymer?' The maester shook his head. 'A soldier named Bryan?'

This time the old man had to think a bit longer. 'Big round face, brown beard?'

Roza nodded, suppressing a lurking smile.

'Aye, he came here with a fever, just a few days ago. I drew some of his blood to examine. I do believe you were there, Roza.'

 _At that time, he was of no value to me_ , Roza thought, _But now ... n_ _ow it all works out perfectly_. She asked no more questions, cleaned up the table, extinguished the hearth. The old man wished her goodnight and proceeded to his bed. Roza was left alone.

Quietly she opened the maester's cupboard. The maester often lost his key, so he had simply decided to leave it unlocked nowadays. As the cupboard doors creaked, Roza swiftly looked around, making sure no one had heard her. Relieved, she let down her head and searched through the blood samples maester Tydus had collected, due to his belief that illnesses were hidden in someone's blood. After rummaging for a short while she found one with the name Bryan written on them. She sighed from relief and held the bottle close to her, as if it were a childhood treasure, and retreated to her room.

Her room was next to the maester's and albeit small, it was all she needed. To her, it might as well have been a palace. She reached under her pillow and found the leather choker with the raven skull, the one thing she had inherited from her mother. Or at least, the only tangible thing. Her knowledge she had adopted as well, of course. After having bound the raven skull around her neck, she waited a moment to quietly prepare herself. It wouldn't be easy. Painful even. She needed to be ready.

And thus, she waited. Not for something external, but for courage to arise in herself. The silence hovered around her. Then suddenly and quite subtly, that silence was broken by the lonely song of a nightingale. _There are still birds here_ , she thought, _there's still beauty._ That gave her hope. She opened her eyes and smeared Bryan's blood on her floor, in one of the symbols her mother had taught her. She touched the raven skull and gathered all her concentration. Now the real work would begin.

That night, her sleep was filled with nightmares and frights. She saw Lady Millecya dying, as well as maester Tydus, and in the end Roto too, everyone. Everyone died but her; she remained behind, sobbing amidst the feasting crows.

Maester Tydus came to her bed in the late morning, as living proof that her dream had been a falsehood. With sincere concern, he asked her if she was feeling well, which Roza quickly dismissed. She glanced at her floor. There was no trace of the blood. That relieved her.

'Her lady has gone to the harbor to await Roto's arrival,' Tydus informed her, 'And in the meantime a letter has arrived from Stonehelm. Could you bring it to her?'

Roza nodded. What she felt she wanted at that moment, was to lie in her bed, but she had learned not to give in to that impulse. Instead she went to the stables, saddled one of the mules and rode through the East Gate of Storm's End, into the open air.

She felt as if fire was raging through her, as if it were a creature that had a will of its own. But the sensation of fresh air through her longs did her good. The awful wind that had swept through Shipbreaker's Bay the previous day had cleared and had left room for much more agreeable weather. A broad smile rested on her face

She did not have to travel far. Roto and his mother came riding in the opposite direction, followed a quartet of Targaryen soldiers. Despite his young age, Roto was the tallest of the group, towering above the others by a head's length. His mother was tall as well, but the way she sat her horse she seemed much smaller. The young lord's physique left no doubt about his family: his head was girdled by hair as black as night and beneath his brows shined two deep blue eyes. His mere existence was proof that house Baratheon was still alive.

Roza turned her mule around to ride beside them. The animal had trouble maintaining the same speed as the horses, but Roza forced him to run. Both Roto and his mother smiled at her, but Roto's smile made her nervous in a way that lady Millecya's did not.

'Good morning, Roza,' Roto greeted her, 'I hope you are well?'

Roza quickly looked away, for fear of blushing. 'I'm fine,' she answered and glanced at Millecya, but her lady didn't seem inclined to tell her son what had happened the previous day. And truly there was no reason for him to know. As lord, he had more than enough to worry about. 'I trust your mission to Tarth went well, my lord?' she added.

'Well enough. Lord Tarth has agreed to send masons to Storm's End to repair the castle, but reluctantly. Only now that I came over in person, was he swayed to seriously discuss the issue. I know, I shouldn't complain. The masons will arrive shortly, that's what counts.'

His mother didn't have the patience to make conversation. 'You didn't come here to enquire after Roto's mission though. I assume you're carrying important news.'

Roza wanted to ask Roto more questions, no matter what about, if just to hear his voice. But his mother was right. She was sent out in the late morning air with a purpose. While diligently mastering her mule, she reached inside her pocket for the letter maester Tydus had entrusted her with and handed the scroll to her lady.

Lady Millecya Baratheon read the letter with a blank, emotionless face, while still riding at a sedate pace. Then she handed the document to her son. 'Mother has died,' she said, staring to the castle they approached. There were no tears on her face, nor any other outward sign of grief. So many tears had her lady shed over the last year, that she know only allowed them if they had a purpose. Still, Roza knew how she felt. At that moment, behind her iron face, yet another part of her was falling apart.

'I'm so sorry, mother,' Roto said,

She nodded. 'She had long life, a happy life, for the most part. For that I can be grateful.'

Roto put his hand on her arm. 'You should go to Stonehelm for her burial, and to see your brother again. The two of you need each other.'

But he himself would not go, Roza knew. The Crown never allowed both Baratheons to both leave; one of them would always stay behind, as a way of ascertaining than the other would return.

While the three riders rode through the gateway, none of them said a word. Even the Targaryen guards who had escorted the young lord, did not dare break the silence. They were not greeted, but were only met with the silence that always covered the courtyard. In the middle of the yard, the gallows still stood, boasting a new prey.

Roto accelerated when he saw the hanged man. Millecya rode more slowly, with Roza faithfully beside her. When they reached Roto, he had already dismounted his horse and stood staring at the dead man's face. 'I don't recognize himself,' he slowly spoke and turned to the others.

One of the soldiers wanted to open his mouth, but Roza was faster to answer, even though she wasn't supposed to know. She simply had no means to have gained this knowledge. Normally she was careful around what she said, but today she could not contain herself. 'One of ser Benfrey's soldiers. He murdered septon Olymer in his sleep last night. No one knows why.'

Roto made a sour face. 'Every time I leave, I return to find someone dead. With every moon's turn Storm's End become more and more of a graveyard.' He took his horse by the reins and led it to the stables. The guardsmen followed him, and lady Millecya went behind them, with such strength of spirit that Roza could only admire.

Roza stayed behind, staring at the soldier's bloated face. She felt a strangely pleasant sensation inside her. Was it pride? Whatever it was, it tasted sweet. With a smirk on her face, she came down from her mule and strolled in the footsteps of her lord and lady.

xxxx

Author's notes

It has been a lengthy chapter, but I wanted to take my time to set up the situation at Storm's End. I have also really looked forward to introducing the Storm's End cast: Roza (submitted by Amira25), lady Millecya (submitted by Lacie Neville) and Roto (submitted by Rougeification). Each of them is a great character in its own right, but what especially struck me while planning their storyline, was how well they go together!

As always, reviews are greatly appreciated! See you next time!


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